•*aa» 

IT    1    i 


THE 


HEART   OF    IT 


A  ROMANCE  OF  EAST  AND  WEST 


BY 

WILLIAM  OSBORN  STODDARD 


NEW     YORK 
G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

182  FIFTH   AVENUE 
1880 


Copyright,  iSSo, 
BY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

A  MAN,  A  MINE,  AND  A  MULE i 

CHAPTER  II. 

DANIEL  BROWN'S  DAY-DREAM 1 1 

CHAPTER  III. 

ON  THE  OTHER  SlDE  OF  THE  GREAT  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY      2O 

CHAPTER  IV. 
How  OLIVER  ADJOURNED  A  CONVENTION — A  HINT  AT  THE 

ORIGIN  OF  METAPHYSICS 31 

CHAPTER  V. 

A  DOG  WITH  A  POSITION  IN  LIFE — A  DOG  WITHOUT  ANY  POSI- 
TION,   AND  HOW   WHAT   HE  HAD  WAS  TAKEN  FROM  HlM — 

WITH  A  WARNING  TO  PEOPLE  WHOSE  PROSPERITY  CROWDS 

OTHER  PEOPLE 44 

CHAPTER  VI. 
ONE  KIND  OF  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 57 

CHAPTER  VII. 
"  UGH!" 65 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

BEATEN  BY  MORE  DEVILS  THAN  ONE 74 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PRACTICAL  LESSON  ON  THE  VALUE  OF  INSTITUTIONS 82 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  DANGER  OF  BELIEVING  IN  A  LIE 91 


M532985 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI.  PAGE 

A  NEW  DEPARTURE I02 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  REMARKABLE  HUNT  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT 112 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

SAVED  BY  A   SACRIFICE— OLIVER   ACCEPTS  A  CALL  AS  AS- 
SISTANT   I23 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

WISE  AS  A  SERPENT  AND  HARMLESS  AS  A  DOVE 133 

CHAPTER  XV. 

BEARING  ONE  ANOTHER'S  BURDENS 142 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  SITUATION  CHEERFULLY  ACCEPTED  BY  MAN  AND  BEAST  152 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
DISCOVERY  OF  A  HOUSEHOLD  TREASURE — CONFLICTING  VIEWS 

CONCERNING  A  LOST  SHEEP 159 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  THROUGH  TRAIN,  AND  ALL  THROUGH  A  NIGHT 169 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAVELLING  EXPENSES  AND  A  VERY  EXPENSIVE  JOURNEY 179 

CHAPTER  XX. 

OUT  OF  THE  ISLAND  BY  ONE  OF  THE  SIDE  DOORS 188 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
PRINCE  AND  THE  WIDOW  TAKE  A  SURVEY  OF  THE  SITUATION.  .  199 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

RAW  VOLUNTEERS  AGAINST  REGULAR  TROOPS 210 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

INTRODUCING  A   STEP-MOTHER — MR.    BROWN   GOES  A  STEP 
FARTHER 220 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
OLIVER  PROTECTS  THE  MINE  IN  THE  DOCTOR'S  ABSENCE 228 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  PARADE  AND  INSPECTION  ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE 237 


CONTENTS.  v 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MR.  BROWN  HOLDS  OUT  HIS  HAND  WITH  AN  INVITATION 24 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  VERY  STORMY~PASSAGE 257 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  PERMANENT  PROVISION  MADE  FOR  TWO  OF  THE  MINOR  CHAR- 
ACTERS   267 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SOMETHING  LIKE  A  MODERN  CASE  OF  METAMORPHOSIS 277 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  HARD  FATE  OF  AN  ENTERPRISING  PUBLIC  SERVANT 289 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

EVEN  A    GOOD    DEED    SOMETIMES  REQUIRES    HUMBLE  CON- 
FESSION   299 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FRED  HERON  RENEWS  SOME  OF  HIS  FAMILY  TIES 306 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

DR.    MlLYNG    AND    OTHERS    ARE    COMPELLED    TO    SUBMIT    TO 

DELAY 318 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  DESPERATE   EFFORT   TO    GET   EVEN  WITH  A   GRASPING   COR- 
PORATION     328 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
ONE  OF  THE  SERMONS  THERE  ARE  IN  IRON  BARS 336 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A  VERY  LONG  JOURNEY,  AND  WHAT  WAS  FOUND  At  THE  END 

OF  IT 350 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WILL  YOU  COME  INTO  MY  PARLOR,  SAID  THE  SPIDER  TO  THE 
FLY. 362 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
THERE  is  NO  SUCH  THING  AS  CERTAINTY  IN  A  PAY-STREAK 372 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

A  SEASON  OF  VERY  BRIGHT  WEATHER  CLOSES  IN  A  STORM 382 

CHAPTER  XL. 
THE  MOST  PROMISING  HOPES  MAY  BE  WITHERED  BY  A  SUDDEN 

BLAST 394 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

FRED  AND  OLIVER  ENGINEER  A  SURPRISE  PARTY 406 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

S  SUCCESS  OF  THE  EXPEDITION,  AND  THE  FINDING  OF  THE 
HEART 420 


THE    HEART    OF    IT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  MAN,  A  MINE  AND  A  MULE. 

ONLY  one  man,  clad  in  somewhat  tattered 
buckskins,  and  near  him  there  sprawled  upon 
the  ground,  equally  solitary,  a  long-legged,  rough- 
coated,  ill-conditioned  mule. 

The  eyes  of  the  mule  were  tightly  shut,  but  those 
of  the  human  being  were  open,  and  were  gazing 
mournfully  into  a  hole  in  the  ledge  of  glittering 
quartz  before  which  he  was  standing,  and  which 
flashed  back  upon  him  the  hot  rays  of  the  morning 
sun. 

Behind  these  two,  in  a  grandly  irregular  oval, 
swept  a  vast  natural  amphitheatre,  formed  by  the 
rugged  cliffs  that  reached  down  from  the  Sierras 
to  the  endless  levels  of  the  South-western  plains. 


2  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  rocks  were  mostly  granitic,  and  here  and 
there  the  broken  ledges  and  terraces  gleamed  snowy 
white  with  quartz. 

Westward  and  above  were  peaks  on  peaks.  East- 
ward and  below,  through  a  mere  cleft  in  the  rocky 
wall  of  the  amphitheatre,  a  ravine  widened  rapidly 
into  a  valley,  and  led  out  upon  a  grassy  table-land, 
through  mighty  fringes  of  primeval  forest. 

The  opening  in  the  face  of  that  ledge  was  not  a 
wide  one,  and  it  had  evidently  been  made  by  the 
well-worn  pick  which  had  now  been  thrown  upon 
the  heap  of  brownish  fragments  in  front  of  it. 

These  latter  manifestly  claimed  kindred  with  a 
seam  or  discolored  streak  some  two  or  three  feet  in 
width,  which  extended  on  either  side  of  the  open- 
ing and  bore  the  appearance  of  b'eing  partly  de- 
composed. 

They  were  of  a  very  peculiar  and  unusual  struct- 
ure, those  fragments  of  brownish  quartz,  calculated 
to  suggest  more  than  one  problem  to  the  miner  or 
the  mineralogist.  They  seemed,  however,  to  have 
solved  one  for  this  man,  and  he  was  both. 

He  was  of  more  than  middle  height,  with  a  thin, 
black  beard  and  moustaches  concealing  the  lower 
third  of  his  bronzed  face,  and  a  pair  of  bright,  red 
lips,  of  firm  but  sensuous  mould,  showed  through 
them  as  he  spoke.  Between  these  latter,  moreover, 
gleamed  teeth  of  dazzling  whiteness. 

A  hawk  nose,  piercing  black  eyes,  a  well  formed 


A.  MAN,  A  MINE  AND  A  MULE.  3 

but  somewhat  narrow  forehead,  and  long  hair  of 
Indian  blackness,  crowned  by  a  broad  sombrero, 
completed  the  remarkable  visage  of  the  solitary 
miner. 

A  seemingly  heavy  pack  was  strapped  upon  his 
shoulders  but  the  manner  in  which  his  meagre, 
sinewy  frame  moved  under  it,  gave  token,  to  a 
practised  eye,  of  a  rare  degree  of  physical  vigor  and 
endurance.  Near  him  lay  a  handsomely  mounted 
repeating  rifle,  and  his  belt  was  well  supplied  with 
other  weapons.  Small  doubt  but  what  such  a  man 
would  know  how  to  use  them  well. 

He  was  not  indulging  in  merely  silent  reverie. 
The  broken  remarks  and  expletives  which  burst 
from  him,  at  intervals,  were  fairly  divided  among  a 
sufficient  number  of  tongues  to  have  started  a  new 
Babel.  English,  Spanish,  French,  German,  dialects 
of  the  red  men,  garnished  with  even  a  Latin  quota- 
tion or  two.  A  "polyglot,"  indeed,  but  would  not 
one  language  have  answered  the  purposes  of  his 
angry  discontent? 

Or  did  he  bring  the  others  in  to  keep  himself 
some  sort  of  company  in  his  loneliness? 

If  so  they  were  all  equally  inclined  to  strong  ex- 
pressions relating  to  the  mine  and  the  mule. 

"  I  give  it  up,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  I  can't  do  it 
any  kind  of  justice.  I  knew  there  was  such  a  place 
as  this.  I've  searched  the  Sierras  for  it,  year  after 
year.  I  followed  the  lines  of  the  system,  when  I 


4  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

learned  there  was  one,  from  the  Dalles  of  the  Colum- 
bia to  this,  on  that  one  mule,  and  now,  here  it  is, 
and  he  has  gone  under.  Oliver,  do  you  hear  that  ? 
This  is  what  we've  been  looking  for.  We've  found 
it!" 

Oliver  responded  by  a  feeble  shake  of  his  ropy 
tail,  and  an  apparently  futile  effort  to  open  one  eye. 

There  was  no  sign  of  exultation  in  the  expression 
of  his  countenance,  and  he  was  plainly  in  no  frame 
of  mind  to  become  excited  about  mining  matters. 
Oliver  was  a  very  much  used-up  mule. 

But  what  was  it  for  which  the  miner  had  made 
so  long  a  search,  and  what  had  he  now  found  ? 

So  intelligent  and  capable  a  man  could  hardly 
have  been  deliberately  throwing  away  his  time,  yet 
there  was  nothing  now  before  him  but  a  heap  of 
broken  stone,  and  a  hole  in  a  quartz  ledge. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said,  again,  "the  heart  of  the 
gold  system.  It's  in  there.  Just  the  out-crop  is 
nearly  half  metal.  There  isn't  any  other  vein  like 
that,  and  it  '11  work  richer  the  deeper  it's  followed. 
But  what  can  I  do,  all  alone?  No  mill;  no  tools; 
no  provisions;  no  nothing.  Not  even  a  mule  to 
carry  out  a  load  of  specimens.  I  must  pack  what  I 
can,  myself.  Won't  stop  this  side  of  the  eastern 
cities,  either.  I  can  get  capital  enough,  there. 
Money,  men,  machinery,  that's  what  I  must  have. 
The  sooner  I  go  for  it  the  better.  Oliver,  I'll  have 
to  leave  you  for  the  coyotes  and  buzzards.  I  can't 


A  MAN,  A  MINE  AND  A  MULE.  5 

stay  here.  I'd  wait  and  nurse  you  up,  but  you're 
too  far  gone  for  that.  The  Apaches  raced  you  a  bit 
too  hard.  The  sooner  I'm  out  of  this  the  better, 
for  I  don't  know  when  they  may  show  again.  Won- 
der if  they  bagged  the  boys?" 

His  preparations  for  departure,  simple  as  they 
were  of  necessity,  had  evidently  been  already  com- 
pleted. 

He  did  but  pause  for  another  look  at  his  mule  and 
a  half  affectionate,  "  Good-by,  Oliver,  old  fellow. 
You  were  the  best  mule  I  ever  had." 

And  then  lie  strode  away  towards  the  valley  which 
seemed  the  only  feasible  entrance  to  the  rocky 
amphitheatre. 

Was  there  no  danger  that  others  might  come,  in 
his  absence,  and  find  and  claim  the  hole  in  the  rock 
to  which  he  seemed  to  attach  so  great  a  value  ? 

Possibly,  but  not  probably,  for  that  was  widely 
beyond  the  range  of  all  ordinary  mining  explora- 
tion, and  there  were  excellent  reasons,  apart  from 
the  frail  security  of  mining  law,  why  no  other  foot 
of  white  man  was  likely  to  come  up  that  ravine  for 
some  time  thereafter. 

Nearly  a  hundred  such  reasons  were  even  then 
riding  slowly  across  the  grassy  plain,  less  than  a 
score  of  miles  away,  and  several  carried  at  their 
belts  sad  answers  to  the  miner's  question  concern- 
ing "the  boys,"  or  some  of  them,  for  the  scalps 
were  freshly  taken. 


6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

It  was  many  long  minutes  after  his  master's  de- 
parture before  Oliver  exhibited  any  noteworthy 
signs  of  life.  His  rough  coat  rose  and  fell  with  his 
slow  breathing,  and  his  hind  legs  quivered  once  or 
twice,  as  if  with  a  dreamy  memory  of  their  departed 
power  to  kick,  but  that  was  all.  A  more  completely 
used-up  mule,  to  all  outward  appearance,  never 
surrendered  his  right  to  carry  his  burdens.  Even 
the  richest  ores  of  the  richest  of  all  mines  would 
not  have  tempted  Oliver  to  stand  up  and  be  laden 
for  a  journey. 

By-and-by,  however,  the  sleepy,  heavy  head  was 
lifted  a  little  from  the  rock,  and  one  eye  came 
slowly  open.  Then  the  other,  and  Oliver  took  a 
swift  survey  of  his  surroundings. 

There  was  not  a  living  thing  to  be  seen. 

As  if  gathering  inspiration  from  that  discovery, 
the  legs  kicked  aside  their  limpness,  and  in  a  moment 
more  Oliver  was  on  his  feet. 

The  pick  and  the  shovel?  He  knew  them  very 
well,  for  he  had  carried  them  many  a  long  mile  and 
day,  but  they  were  all  that  was  left  him  of  his  hu- 
man guide  and  guardian.  There  was  the  heap  of 
ore,  too,  and  not  a  pound  of  it  would  be  packed, 
now,  for  his  carrying. 

Fluttering  in  the  crevice,  there  by  the  heap,  was 
something  more  which  momentarily  attracted  the 
mule's  attention. 

No,  not  good  to  eat.  Only  an  old  letter  envelope 


A  MAN,  A  MINE  AND  A  MULE.  j 

which  Oliver  did  not  so  much  as  pause  to  read. 
It  was  adressed  to 

"  DR.  GEORGE  MILYNG, 

•  "St.  Louis,  Mo." 

and  had  been  afterwards  written  all  over  with  pen- 
cilled memoranda,  before  it  was  lost  or  thrown  away. 
Oliver  had  no  pocket  for  such  things,  but  he  had 
an  aching  void  within  him  which  called  for  some- 

o 

thing  more  nutritious  than  he  could  hope  to 
find  among  the  barren  rocks  where  Dr.  Milyng 
had  abandoned  him.  Nor  had  his  lassitude  been 
altogether  sham,  else  it  would  hardly  have  imposed 
upon  such  a  keen-eyed  master.  If  Oliver  were  not 
indeed  half-dead  there  was  good  enough  reason  why 
he  might  have  been,  as  the  doctor  was  well  aware. 
Even  at  the  best,  he  was  no  mule  now  to  carry  ores 
to  the  settlements. 

He  could  carry  himself  out  of  that  mysterious 
amphitheatre,  however,  and  he  proceeded  to  do  so, 
marching  slowly  and  circumspectly,  lest  by  any 
chance  he  should  again  intrude  upon  the  solitude  of 
the  discontented  miner. 

At  the  head  of  the  ravine  there  was  a  little  spring, 
and  Oliver  halted  by  it  long  enough  to  drink  its  tiny 
basin  nearly  dry,  and  nibble  all  there  was  of  the  few 
green  tufts  on  its  arid,  stony  margin,  but  there  was 
a  wide  world  beyond,  with  plenty  of  grass  in  it,  and 
the  hand  of  hunger  beckoned  him  down  the  valley. 

With  a  more  rapid  and  vigorous  stride  than  his 


8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

mule  would  have  been  capable  of,  Dr.  Milyng  had 
made  his  way  along  that  same  trail,  only  pausing  for 
a  shot  at  an  antelope  as  he  reached  the  lower  level. 

No  missing,  of  course,  and  the  next  duty  on  hand 
was  very  like  Oliver's,  for  it  carried  his  master,  with 
his  game  on  his  shoulder,  deep  in  among  the  forest 
trees. 

"  I  wish  I  could  eat  him  all,  now.  Lay  in  enough 
for  a  week  and  walk  right  ahead.  If  I  knew  where 
those  Apaches  were  camped  I'd  try  for  a  mount 
of  some  kind.  Reckon  they've  broke  up  the  boys, 
entirely.  Well,  if  any  of  'em  got  away,  they  don't 
know  my  secret,  and  so  they  can't  tell  it.  I'll  make 
for  the  ruins,  first.  Sorry  to  lose  Oliver,  but  a  mule's 
a  mule." 

Doubtless,  but  he  might  have  learned  a  lesson  in 
mule  wisdom  if  his  vision  had  not  then  been  con- 
fined by  so  many  tree  trunks. 

At  that  very  moment  the  sagacious  Oliver  was 
trotting  out  into  the  grassy  level  below  and  hunting 
for  a  hollow  where  he  might  eat  his  fill  unseen  and 
undisturbed. 

He  had  voted  himself  a  vacation,  and  he  was,  be- 
yond all  cloubt,  fully  entitled  to  it. 

If  Dr.  Milyng  was  unable  to  eat  awhole  antelope, 
he  was  clearly  competent  to  provision  himself  effect- 
ually.  All  men  who  have  seen  much  service  under 
uncertainties  as  to  when  and  where  they  are  to  eat 
their  next  dinner,  acquire  a  faculty  of  this  kind.  It 


A  MAN,  A  MINE  AND  A  MULE.  g 

is  truly  wonderful  how  the  power  of  condensing 
three  meals  into  one  can  be  developed,  even  in  a  thin 
and  wiry  frame  like  that  of  the  solitary  miner. 

The  only  thing  which  seemed  to  trouble  him  was 
the  fact  that  he  had  kindled  a  fire  in  the  day-time, 
and  that  the  smoke  of  it  must  show  above  the  tops  of 
the  trees. 

"  It'll  be  spread  a  good  deal,  to  be  sure,  but  In- 
dian eyes'd  take  it.  They  may  not  be  near  enough, 
and  then  again  they  may.  I  mustn't  lose  my  scalp 
now.  It's  worth  more'n  it  ever  was  before.  I  be^ 
lieve  I'm  even  getting  a  little  excited  over  it. 
Haven't  talked  so  much  in  a  long  time." 

Curious  talk  it  was,  too,  in  a  not  unmusical  voice, 
and  with  a  sort  of  drawling,  nasal  cadence,  such  as 
is  common  among  the  Indians  and  Mexicans.  The 
tones  grew  deep  and  strong,  at  times,  and  the  broad, 
powerful  chest  from  which  they  came  swelled  and 
heaved,  while  the  black  eyes  flashed  and  the  dark 
cheeks  reddened,  and  once  something  very  like  a 
laugh  of  triumph  rang  out  among  the  long  colonnades 
of  the  gigantic  pines.  A  strange  man  was  this  ;  one 
not  to  be  easily  disheartened  by  circumstances,  and 
if  it  were  possible  to  find  a  way  of  escape  from  his 
present  perils  he  was  the  very  man  of  men  to  do  it. 

Toil,  privation,  danger,  suffering,  desperate  enter- 
prise— these  had  been  his  daily  companions,  till  they 
had  become  half  a  necessity  of  life,  and  their  endur- 
ance a  second  nature. 


10  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

No  mule  was  ever  foaled  that  could  out-worK  or 
out-travel  a  veteran  explorer  of  Dr.  Milyng's  frame 
of  body  and  mind.  Oliver  had  sustained  himself 
wonderfully  well,  for  as  the  doctor  remarked,  he  was 
the  very  best  kind  of  mule,  but  even  he  had  been 
compelled  to  succumb  at  last. 

There  he  was  now,  in  his  grassy  hollow,  feeding 
as  energetically  as  his  master  himself,  but  preparing 
less  for  a  long  march  than  for  all  the  sleep  his  future 
circumstances  might  permit  him  to  take. 

"The  heart,  the  golden  heart,"  muttered  the 
doctor  to  himself,  as  he  again  set  forward,  heavily 
burdened  with  supplies  as  well  as  specimens.  "I 
must  get  the  right  sort  of  men.  It'll  take  all  the 
rest  of  this  season  to  put  our  outfit  in  shape  and  get 
away  from  the  settlements,  but  we  can  be  at  the 
mine  early  next  spring.  It's  nearly  September,  now, 
and  I  can't  tell  how  long  I  may  be  making  my  way 
in.  Afoot  and  alone  make  a  long  road  of  it.  I 
must  try  and  get  me  some  kind  of  a  mount,  as  sure's 
you're  born.  Even  a  pony'd  be  better'n  nothing." 


CHAPTER  II. 

DANIEL  BROWN'S   DAY-DREAM. 

A  NOBLE  residence  it  was,  in  the  outskirts  of  a 
•£\.  great  city  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  Within  the 
city  limits,  yet  with  enough  of  shrubbery  and  green- 
sward around  it  to  give  it  almost  the  air  of  a  coun- 
try-seat. One  of  those  abodes  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment which  are  such  an  eye-sore  to  the  ascetic  on 
the  one  hand  and  the  communist  on  the  other. 

It  is  not  always  easy  to  see  why  there  should  be 
palaces  for  some  men  and  huts  for  others,  but  so  it 
is,  and  so  it  always  has  been,  and  the  size  of  the  hut 
has  never  been  increased  by  pulling  down  the  palace, 
whatever  the  man  in  the  hut  may  choose  to  think 
about  it. 

In  one  wing  of  this  house  the  lights  \vere  blazing 
brightly,  that  evening  in  August,  the  wire  gauze  at 
the  windows  baffling  the  mosquitoes,  as  the  unseen 
laws  of  political  economy  baffle  financial  theorists. 

Only  a  buzz  and  a  bite  thrown  away,  in  either 
case. 

II 


12  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

That  was  the  "  library  wing,"  and  the  crowded 
shelves  of  its  ample  space  bore  witness  to  the 
breadth  and  liberality  of  their  owner's  wishes. 
Of  course  he  could  not  actually  have  read  a 
very  large  percentage  of  the  books,  being  but  one 
man,  and  a  pretty  hard  working  man  of  business. 
No  doubt  he  would  have  liked  to  read  them. 
It  is  that  sort  of  feeling  and  its  shadow,  "  I'd 
like  people  to  think  I've  read  them,"  which  are 
the  main  support  of  the  booksellers. 

The  tall,  strongly-built,  square-visaged  man, 
now  sitting  well  back  in  his  easy  chair  of  woven 
cane,  there  by  the  library  table,  was  plainly  a 
man  of  thought  and  action,  rather  than  a  reader. 
Few  men  possess  the  faculty  of  being  both.  All 
others  do  well  to  discover,  early  in  life,  how  few 
are  the  books  which  cannot  be  swallowed  at  a  gulp, 
or  squeezed  dry  at  a  gripe. 

There  he  sat,  now,  the  strong,  iron-gray  man, 
with  the  thick,  prominent  nose  and  the  massive 
chin,  while  opposite  to  him,  across  the  library  table, 
there  was  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  high-backed, 
richly  carved  imitation  of  a  mediaeval  throne,  a  mid- 
dle-aged gentleman,  whom  nobody  would  have  mis- 
taken for  anything  less  than  a  doctor  of  divinity. 

The  consciousness  of  his  ecclesiastical  dignity 
shone  from  the  bald  spot  on  his  crown  and  through  all 
the  blandly  expressive  muscles  of  his  face.  His  very 
tailor  had  expressed  it  in  the  fashion  of  his  garments, 


DA  NIEL  BRO  WN '  S  DA  V-  DAE  AM.  1 3 

although  the  body  to  which  he  belonged  has 
neither  canons  nor  customs  relating  to  fashion- 
plates. 

A  very  good  face  was  his,  and  it  had  been  beam- 
ing wonderfully  upon  his  rich  and  liberal  host,  across 
the  library  table. 

How  a  man  with  a  good  income  does  get  beamed 
upon  in  the  course  of  his  earthly  pilgrimage! 

But  just  at  this  particular  moment  a  sort  of  cloud 
was  slowly  rising  on  the  benignant  countenance  of 
the  good  man,  and  his  white  hands  were  working 
uncertainly  with  a  mass  of  papers  before  him, 
and  which  he  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  fold- 
ing up. 

"  My  dear  brother  Brown,  do  I  really  get  your 
meaning?  These  plans  of  yours,  will  they  interfere 
with  your  customary  contributions?" 

"Can't  say,  just  now,  Dr.  Derrick.  Everything 
will  have  to  wait  till  I  get  my  mind  clear." 

"You  have  not  explained  the  nature  of  them." 

"  No,  indeed.  I  wish  I  could.  When  I  can,  I 
shall  take  the  greatest  pleasure  in  so  doing." 

"But  are  you  not  assuming  a  fearful  responsi- 
bility? Men  of  money  are  answerable,  Mr.  Brown." 

"Just  what  I've  been  thinking,  my  dear  doctor, 
and  I've  told  you  some  of  my  experiences.  It's  a 
great  responsibility  to  take,  to  put  money  in  other 
men's  hands,  instead  of  using  it  one's  self." 

The  conversation  had  evidently  not  been  a  short 


!4  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

one,  and  this  was  about  the  end  of  it,  for  the  clean- 
shaven lower  jaw  of  Mr.  Brown  was  putting  on  a 
firmer  look  with  every  minute,  while  that  of  disap- 
pointment deepened  in  the  dignified  face  of  his 
guest. 

It  was  too  bad  that  so  good  a  man  should  pre- 
sent a  subscription  paper  in  vain,  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it,  and  Dr.  Derrick  folded  up  his  documents 
and  took  his  leave. 

There  had  been  nothing  but  the  kindliest  cour- 
tesy in  the  manner  of  his  reception,  and  even  when 
the  door  closed  behind  him  and  he  marched  slowly 
down  towards  the  front  gate,  where  his  cab  was 
waiting  for  him,  he  muttered,  "  Plans  ?  Plans? 
What  has  a  man  like  Daniel  Brown  to  do  with 
plans?  At  his  age,  too,  to  be  muddling  his  brains 
and  crippling  his  charities  with  visionary  schemes. 
Never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  He'll  get  over 
it  before  long,  and  then  I'll  come  and  see  him 
again." 

But  the  thoughts  of  Mr.  Brown  were  not  follow- 
ing his  reverend  friend  down  the  lamp-lit  avenue. 
He  had  resumed  his  easy  chair  at  the  library  table, 
and  was  leaning  back  with  a  dreamy  look  on 
his  features  which  hardly  seemed  at  home  there. 
The  door  through  which  he  had  entered  was  still 
open,  and  now  there  swept  gracefully  through  it 
the  form  of  a  young  lady.  Very  young,  and  very 
graceful,  and  she  bore  in  her  hands  a  tray,  of  Japan- 


DA  NIEL  BR 0  WN  'S  DA  Y-DREA  M.  \  5 

ese  lacquer  work,  on  which  were  strewn  a  number 
of  fragments  of  mineral. 

"  Dr.  Derrick  has  gone,  Mabel.  I'm  half  sorry, 
but  I  fear  he's  disappointed." 

"  In  not  making  a  gold  mine  of  you?" 

"  In  finding  me  a  good  deal  like  others,  I  fancy. 
More  mine  than  gold." 

"  He  can't  expect  that  you  will  always  sub^ 
scribe." 

"Can't  say.  Maybe  I've  spoiled  him.  But  what 
do  you  think  of  your  specimens  ?" 

"Very  pretty,  Uncle  Daniel.  Some  of  them  are 
very  interesting.  But  some  of  the  others  seem  to 
have  very  little  gold  in  them." 

"  Not  that  you  can  see,  my  dear.  Sometimes 
those  are  the  best,  but  it  takes  money  to  get  the 
money  out. 

"Yes,  for  men,  and  for  machinery,  and  all  that. 
But  the  others  will  look  better  in  a  cabinet.  The 
gold  shows." 

"Precisely.  It  costs  enough  to  get  it  out,  even 
then." 

"  I  should  think  you  could  just  melt  it  out  of  a 
piece  like  that.  It's  pretty  enough  for  jewelry." 

"So  it  is.  If  the  mines  were  made  up  of  that 
sort  of  thing  gold  wouldn't  be  worth  a  great 
deal." 

"  It  would  come  so  easily,  it  would  be  too  cheap. 
I  see—" 


1 6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  Precisely.  Worth  very  little,  but  for  the  labor 
and  cost  of  getting  it.  Do  you  know,  Mabel, 
there's  something  wonderfully  fascinating  to  me 
about  a  gold  mine." 

"  There  must  be.  Why,  it's  like  a  story  of  the 
Arabian  Nights.  Digging  into  the  ground  and 
finding  treasure." 

"  What  could  not  a  man  do,  Mabel,  if  he  had  ac- 
cess to  some  of  the  gold  that  lies  hidden  away  in 
the  dark  among  our  western  mountains." 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  Uncle  Daniel.  It's  enough  to 
give  one  a  headache." 

"  He  could  pay  the  national  debt." 

"  I  thought  you  said  that  would  be  a  national 
calamity,  the  other  day?  He  could  feed  and  clothe 
the  poor  people." 

"  And  that  would  be  a  worse  thing  than  the 
other.  But  he  could  set  at  work  a  host  of  men 
who  are  idle." 

"  He  could  send  out  missionaries — " 

"  Mabel,  my  dear,  he  could  do  anything.  I'm 
half  afraid  it  isn't  safe  for  me  to  think  or  talk 
about  it." 

"Then  I  wouldn't  look  at  those  specimens  any 
longer.  You  don't  own  any  mines,  do  you?" 

"  No,  but  I  easily  could.  The- market  is  full  of 
them." 

"Why,  I  should  want  to  keep  one,  seems  to  me, 
if  I  owned  it." 


DA NIEL  BR 0 IV N 'S  DAY DREA M.  \ j 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  took  a  great  deal  of  money 
to  work  one,  after  you  found  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  I'd  like  to  find  one." 

"  I  knew  a  man,  once,  that  knew  the  way  to  more 
mines !" 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?" 

"  I  almost  wish  I  did." 

"  Couldn't  you  find  him  ?" 

"  Hardly.  He  used  to  turn  up,  every  now  and 
then,  with  the  most  remarkable  specimens  and  the 
most  thrilling  stories  of  where  he  found  them." 

"  Did  they  make  him  rich  ?" 

"  I  believe  they  did,  several  times.  But  all  he 
made  in  one  mine  he'd  spend  in  finding  another. 
He  was  a  born  explorer." 

"  Look  at  that  piece  of  quartz,  Uncle  Daniel. 
Such  a  lump  of  gold." 

"  Nothing  at  all,  my  dear,  to  what  I've  seen  Dr. 
Milyng  bring  in.  He  was  the  most  complete  en- 
thusiast you  ever  saw.  Well  educated,  too,  and  the 
strangest  person.  Extravagant,  reckless,  sometimes 
dissipated,  at  others  abstemious  as  an  anchorite. 
I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  meet  him  again.  I'd  help 
him  work  some  of  his  mining  claims." 

"  What  for,  Uncle  Daniel  ?  You  are  rich 
enough  ?" 

"  For  some  things,  Mabel,  but  not  for  others. 
I've  a  plan  in  my  head." 

"  A  plan,  Uncle  Daniel  ?     What  for  ?"' 


1 8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  just  now.  It  is 
educational,  denominational,  evangelical,  and  all  but 
universal,  and  it  needs  a  gold  mine  to  carry  it  out." 

The  strong,  grim,  practical  face  grew  brighter 
and  warmer  as  he  spoke,  and  his  niece  herself  re- 
sponded with  a  glow  of  girlish  enthusiasm  which 
well  became  the  sunny  beauty  of  her  rosy  but  some- 
what aristocratic  face. 

"  Would  any  of  these  ores  do,  uncle?" 

"  If  the  vein  were  as  rich  throughout.  But  there's 
the  difficulty.  A  vein  is  like  a  man — it  always  wishes 
to  be  judged  by  the  best  specimens  it  can  send." 

"These  are  the  good  deeds,  then?" 

"And  we  are  not  always  sure  where  they  come 
from,  any  more  than  if  we  heard  golden  things  about 
one  of  our  neighbors.  The  further  off  the  greater 
the  uncertainty. 

"  How  would  you  ever  know,  then  ?" 

"  Cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance,  my  dear.  Look 
him  or  it  in  the  face,  and  judge  for  myself." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  would  go  on  a  mining 
expedition  ?" 

"  I  mean,  I  would  never  pour  my  money  into  a 
hole  in  the  ground  till  I  had  at  least  seen  the  hole. 
The  contrary  course  has  led  to  most  of  the  waste  in 
mining  interprises." 

"  But  where  is  your  friend  ?" 

"Doctor  Milyng?" 

"Yes,  the  wonderful  miner." 


DANIEL  BRO  WN'S  DA  Y-DREA M.  \  Q 

"  I  mean  to  try  and  hunt  him  up,  between  this 
and  winter.  I  believe  I'm  getting  the  gold  fever." 

"  Seems  to  me  I  can  feel  it  in  these  specimens, 
uncle.  Jt  is  so  strange  to  think  of  digging  for 
gold." 

"  I  was  sorry  to  disappoint  the  good  doctor,  to- 
night. But  then,  all  I  could  do  now  would  be 
nothing  at  all  in  comparison  !" 

Mabel  put  herself  in  mind,  just  then,  of  some 
household  duty,  and  tripped  away,  leaving  her  uncle 
sitting  there  with  a  great  thought  in  his  strong, 
comprehensive  mind,  and  a  great  fever  slowly  grow- 
ing hotter  and  hotter  within  him.  He  found  him- 
self before  long,  fingering  and  gazing  at  the  bits  of 
rock  on  the  tray,  prying  into  their  crannies  and 
crevices,  and  peering  curiously  around  every  smallest 
freckle  of  dingy  yellow. 

It  is  not  true  that  weak  men  are  the  easiest  vic- 
tims of  enthusiasms  and  chimeras.  Oysters,  human 
or  otherwise,  never  go  crazy.  It  is  reserved  for  them 
to  sit  in  their  shells  and  wonder  why  those  other 
foolish  fish  go  darting  through  the  sea  with  such  a 
useless  expenditure  of  energy,  when  there  is  such  a 
world  of  easy  and  unexciting  loafing  to  be  done. 
Daniel  Brown  was  no  oyster,  and  he  was  by  no  means 
a  fool  at  any  time. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE  GREAT  GULF  OF 
RESPECTABILITY. 

IT  is  difficult  to  guess  correctly  the  age  of  a  man, 
nowadays.  The  difficulty  always  existed  with  ref- 
erence to  women.  A  man's  age  has  so  little  to  do 
with  time,  after  all,  that  the  wonder  of  it  need  not 
be  great,  when  the  same  person  may  be  hardly 
out  of  his  first  childhood  on  one  side  of  his  character, 
and  drooling  into  his  second  on  another. 

The  gentleman  who  was  promenading  a  thorough- 
fare of  that  same  great  city,  several  hours  before 
the  call  of  Dr.  Derrick  upon  Mr.  Daniel  Brown,  may 
have  been  thirty  years  of  age  by  the  almanac,  but 
he  was  a  remarkably  old-looking  young  man,  that 
day.  He  had  neither  gray  hairs  nor  wrinkles,  and 
his  well  proportioned  frame  was  erect  enough,  but, 
from  his  boots  to  his  hat,  there  was  no  single  thing 
about  him  new  or  fresh.  Not  that  he  was  ragged 
or  dirty,  nor  did  his  dark,  steady  eyes  fall  before 
those  of  any  passer-by,  as  if  he  recognized  any  rea- 
son for  shunning  the  faces  of  his  fellow-men. 
20 


THE  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY.  2l 

Not  a  "  dead  beat,"  decidedly,  but  a  gentleman 
whose  boots  had  not  been  recently  brushed,  and 
whose  linen  was  not  what  he  could  have  desired. 

A  strongly  marked  face,  and  by  no  means  hand- 
some; colorless  without  pallor,  and  with  lines  of 
weakness  crossed  and  underlaid  by  others  which 
promised  more  than  usual  strength  of  character. 
Decidedly,  a  man  with  a  past,  and  who  might  yet 
have  a  future,  but  who  seemed  to  have  little  or  no 
present  to  speak  of. 

Nor  did  he  seem  disposed  to  speak  of  it  to  any- 
body, but  sauntered  along  with  the  throng  of  pedes- 
trians for  square  after  square,  until  he  was  suddenly 
halted  by  a  hail,  and  a  man  of  nearly  twice  his  size 
stood  in  his  way. 

"  Fred  Heron,  is  this  you  ?" 

"  Since  you  recognize  me,  I  suppose  it  is,  but  I  was 
beginning  to  doubt  it." 

"Doubt  it?     Why?" 

"  I  meet  so  many  who  seem  to  deny  it.  Men  of 
good  judgment,  too." 

"Well,  you've  only  yourself  to  blame." 

"Very  likely.  But  I've  not  been  blaming  any- 
body. Not  even  myself." 

"  I  mean,  you've  no  business  to  go  about  looking 
this  way.  A  man  who  has  been  what  you  have  !" 

'•'!  have  not  asked  anybody's  permission,  Bob 
Fettridge." 

"You've  got  to  ask  mine." 


22  777^  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  speaker  was  a  big  man,  well,  and  even  showily 
dressed,  and  he  had  drawn  Fred  Heron  out  by  the 
curbstone  while  he  was  talking.  His  face,  a  singu- 
larly hard  and  worldly  face,  with  a  marked  tinge  of 
sensuality,  had  put  on  a  curious  expression,  which 
now  became  almost  resentful. 

"  Your  permission?     I'd  like  to  know  why?" 

"Why?  Well,  because  I  knew  you  in  old  times. 
Because  you  have  done  me  favors.  Because  I  owe 
you  for  them.  It's  an  insult  to  me  to  have  you 
going  around  this  way.  I  won't  submit  to  it." 

"  Don't  see  how  you'll  help  it." 

"  I  do,  then.  How  much  do  you  want?  I'll  lend 
it  to  you." 

"I'm  not  borrowing  money.  I  might  never  be 
able  to  pay." 

"No  nonsense,  now.  How  much?  Say  the 
word." 

"  No,  I  won't." 

"  Yes,  you  will.  Take  that,  or  I'll  never  look  you 
in  the  face  again.  Pay  me  when  you  can.  I  want 
to  keep  some  self-respect,  I  do." 

There  was  a  weak  spot  in  Fred  Heron,  some- 
where, for  his  hand  closed  over  the  crisp  notes 
held  out  to  him  by  the  big  man,  and  the  latter 
added : 

"  Come  and  see  me.     I'm  in  a  hurry." 

A  moment  more  and  he  was  gone,  and  Fred  had 
not  so  much  as  said  "  thank  you." 


THE  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY.  2$ 

"Two  hundred  dollars?  From  him?  Where 
won't  the  lightning  strike  next.  But  I  ought  not  to 
have  taken  it.  Yes,  but  I  have,  and  here  it  is. 
Bessie?  Yes,  I  can  give  her  a  lift,  now.  She,  at 
least,  has  managed  to  keep  her  friends." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  external  change  in 
his  demeanor,  but  he  walked  faster  than  before. 
Steadily  on,  for  street  after  street,  only  stopping  a 
few  minutes  at  a  little  stationer's  shop  to  write  a 
note,  until  he  stood  before  a  mansion  of  somewhat 
more  than  average  respectability. 

"  Is  Miss  Heron  in  ?"  he  asked  of  the  servant  who 
answered  the  bell. 

'"No,  sir." 

"  Then  hand  her  that  little  parcel  as  soon  as  she 
comes  in." 

"  Parcel,  indeed  !     Why,  it's  only  a  letter." 

"  Hand  it  to  her." 

The  door  was  closed  in  his  face  a  trifle  briskly,  for 
his  appearance  was  hardly  in  keeping  with  the  tone  of 
that  front  entrance,  and  Fred  marched  rapidly 
away. 

Long  walks,  he  was  taking,  and  his  next  pause 
was  before  one  of  those  dingy  edifices  which,  in  the 
older  neighborhoods  of  every  great  city,  have  no 
need  of  a  sign.  It  was  an  unmistakable  "boarding- 
house." 

"Jenny,  is  Mrs.  Gibbs  in?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Heron,  but  it's  no   use.     Her  orders 


24  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

are  that  you  can't  have  your  things.  Even  Mr. 
Augustus — " 

"  Tell  her  I  want  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  sir — O  here  she  is." 

"  Mrs.  Gibbs,  I've  come  to  pay  my  bill.  It's  an 
even  fifty,  I  think." 

"  Fifty  for  you,  Mr.  Heron,  and  it's  a  shame,  the 
way  I've  been  treated.  Your  brother  went  off  owing 
me  ten,  and  he's  got  a  good  situation,  and  I've  never 
seen  or  heard — " 

"That  makes  sixty.     Please  give  me  a  receipt." 

"  For  you  and  him  ?  I  always  said  you  was  a 
gentleman.  Sit  down.  I'll  bring  it  in  a  minute." 

But  Fred  did  not  sit  down,  although  he  had 
walked  into  the  dismal  parlor  quite  unceremoniously. 
A  sort  of  pallor  was  creeping  into  his  face,  but  the 
lines  about  his  mouth  were  hardening  rather  than 
softening. 

She  was  as  good  as  her  word,  for  the  bills  were 
ready,  and  only  needed  receipting.  A  minute  was 
enough. 

"  Your  things  are  ready  any  time.  The  fourth 
floor  front,  the  hall  room,  is  vacant  just  now,  but— 

"  Keep  them  till  I  send  for  them.  Good  after- 
noon, Mrs.  Gibbs." 

Again  the  door  closed  behind  him,  but  not  so 
unkindly,  and  he  did  not  hear  her  say: 

"That's  queer,  Jenny.  He  isn't  even  dressed 
up,  but  he's  paid  his  bill." 


THE  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY.  2$ 

"Some  doesn't  need  so  much  dressin'  as  some 
does,  Mrs.  Gibbs.  He  doesn't  seem  so  sick  as  he 
used  to  be,  and  I'm  glad  of  that." 

"  So  am  I,  Jenny.  I  wouldn't  mind  lettin'  him 
have  the  hall  room — " 

But  Fred  Heron  was  walking  as  fast  as  ever,  and 
kept  it  up  until  he  was  arrested  by  a  half-sarcastical, 
"Shine  'em  up?  Only  five  cents,"  from  an  urchin 
who  seemed  to  think  his  street-cry  a  tolerable  joke 
when  thrown  at  the  ears  of  such  a  wayfarer. 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do,  boy.     Give  'em  a  good  one." 

"Needs  two,  sir,"  responded  the  irrepressible 
youth,  as  he  whacked  his  box  down  on  the  sidewalk 
and  went  vigorously  to  work. 

That  was  a  very  decent  looking  pair  of  boots 
when  the  job  was  done. 

"A  hat,  now.  A  cheap  one.  They're  selling 
summer  styles  at  cost.  Then  a  coat  and  pants. 
No,  this  coat  must  do.  But  trousers,  now,  and  a 
vest  and  some  socks  and  shirts,  and  some  under 
rigging.  Then  for  a  Turkish  bath  and  a  change." 

He  carried  out  his  programme,  but  when  he  came 
out  of  the  bath  house,  an  hour  later,  small  as  had 
been  his  expenditures  on  personal  account,  even 
Bob  Fettridge  would  not  have  felt  his  appearance  an 
insult  to  his  friends.  Jenny  was  right  about  the 
effect  of  dress  on  "some  people." 

He  had,  however,  two  bundles  in  his  hands  and 
they  seemed  to  trouble  him. 


26  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  I  can  have  the  pants  cleaned  and  pressed,"  he 
muttered,  "but  I'd  never  disgrace  myself  by  letting 
a  washerwoman  see  those  things.  I  know  what 
I'll  do." 

It  was  but  a  few  blocks  to  the  nearest  ferry,  cross- 
ing an  arm  of  the  sea,  and  a  half-brick,  picked  up  on 
the  way,  was  quietly  bound  in  the  smaller  bundle. 

It  was  but  a  slight  splash  in  the  water,  as  he 
leaned  over  the  rail,  and  when  he  returned,  on  the 
same  boat,  he  carried  but  one  bundle.  This  too 
was  speedily  deposited,  in  accordance  with  his  mut- 
tered intention,  at  a  small  "  tailoring  and  repairing" 
shop,  and  then  he  seemed  disposed  to  walk  slowly  and 
take  an  account  of  stock,  financial  and  otherwise. 

"About  ten  dollars  left,  eh?  Wonder  if  I've  dealt 
fair  with  Fettridge.  Hardly.  He  meant  me  to  use 
it  all.  But  then  Bessie  couldn't  have  gone  to  her 
western  friends.  Mrs.  Gibbs,  too.  Let  me  see.  I 
had  a  dinner  day  before  yesterday,  and  a  breakfast 
yesterday  morning.  It's  time  I  had  something  to 
eat." 

He  entered  a  restaurant,  accordingly,  but  a  pro- 
longed study  of  the  bill  of  fare  seemed  to  offer  him 
only  moderate  temptation.  Even  when  his  selection 
was  made  and  the  waiter  brought  it,  he  ate  like  a 
man  to  whom  such  things  were  an  effort,  a  matter  of 
duty,  rather  than  as  if  he  had  an  appetite.  Perhaps 
his  stomach  was  out  of  practice,  and  hardly  knew 
how  to  begin  again. 


THE  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY.  2J 

He  ate,  however,  and  paid  the  reckoning  after- 
wards, adding  a  dime  for  the  waiter,  which  was 
quite  enough  under  the  circumstances. 

It  was  now  getting  late  in  the  day  and  Fred 
Heron's  walk  must  come  to  an  end,  somewhere. 

An  apothecary's  shop? 

Was  he  ill,  a  man  who  could  walk  like  that  with- 
out  eating? 

"  Only  three  grains,"  he  said  to  the  smug  assistant. 

"  Three?     Is  it  regular?" 

"  No.  I'm  cutting  down,  now.  Got  it  almost 
run  out.  You  may  give  me  as  many  for  to-mor- 
row. Only  I'm  going  to  try  it  with  two.  Perhaps 
one." 

"  No  you  won't,  then.  I've  seen  it  tried,  lots  of 
times.  Wish  you  could,  but  it  don't  work,  somehow. 
Opium  don't  let  go." 

"Won't  it?  WTell,  then,  I  can  let  go.  But  not 
this  time.  Three  for  now,  and  three  for  experi- 
ments." 

The  young  druggist  silently  put  up  the  pills,  but 
the  look  of  incredulity  on  his  face  saddened  as  he 
handed  them  over  the  counter,  in  a  way  which  did 
him  credit. 

An  opium  eater  ? 

At  all  events  he  put  those  three  pills  in  his 
mouth,  and  the  little  box  with  the  other  three  in 
his  vest  pocket. 

The  shadows  were  deepening  as  he  resumed  his 


28  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

walk,  and  the  lights  in  the  shops  were  streaming 
out  brilliantly,  one  after  another. 

There  are  more  poisons  than  opium,  and  very 
brilliant  places  they  are  sold  in,  occasionally,  but  a 
man  of  Fred  Heron's  present  appearance,  in  spite 
of  the  elderly  character  of  his  outer  garment,  was 
welcome  to  walk  in  under  the  utmost  glitter  of 
glass  and  gas  and  all  the  splendor  of  the  most  pre- 
tentious gilding. 

Welcome,  no  doubt,  but  he  seemed  in  no  hurry. 
In  fact,  he  stood  before  one  gorgeous  entrance  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then  he  walked 
slowly  up  and  down. 

More  than  one  passer-by  had  jostled  him.  He 
had  even  been  spoken  to,  but  the  voice  had  not 
been  a  man's  voice,  neither  had  he  answered  it. 

"  This  once,"  he  murmured,  at  last.  "  It  seems 
as  if  it  would  have  to  be,  just  this  once.  I  think 
I've  stood  it  wonderfully  well,  as  it  is." 

He  went  in,  he  drank  something,  and  he  came 
out,  and  there  was  no  pallor  in  his  face  now.  Even 
the  weakness  was  gone  from  it,  but  the  lines  which 
were  hardening  instead  were  not  all  pleasant  to 
look  upon.  They  were  the  face  marks  of  the  gladi- 
ator whose  weapon  has  broken  in  his  hand,  but  who 
closes  with  his  enemy  nevertheless. 

Almost  a  handsome  man  was  Fred  Heron,  in  the 
glare  of  the  street  lamp  near  him,  as  he  turned  and 
strode  away.  Would  he  never  end  his  walking? 


THE  GULF  OF  RESPECTABILITY. 


29 


Where  could  he  now  be  bound,  after  such  an  after- 
noon ? 

Whether  he  had  any  special  errand  on  hand  or 
not,  he  strode  vigorously  away,  nor  did  he  so  much 
as  cast  a  glance  at  any  other  brilliant  and  tempting 
entrance.  Neither  did  he  speak  to  any  human 
being  as  he  went. 

At  that  very  hour  a  trim  and  prim  looking  young 
lady,  the  embodiment  of  neat  respectability,  sat  by 
a  desk  in  the  house  which  he  had  first  visited  that 
day — the  very  respectable  house — and  she  was  writ- 
ing a  letter  which  began  with, 

"  Dear  brother  Fred." 

Of  course,  it  would  never  do  to  quote  a  young 
lady's  letter  entire,  but  there  were  passages  worth 
quoting: — 

"  I  am  truly  thankful  for  the  hundred  dollars. 
Not  only  it  will  carry  me  West,  but  I  take  it  as  a 
sign  that  you  are  really  reforming,  and  are  disposed 
to  do  your  duty  again.  Of  course  I  do  not  feel 
like  asking  you  to  come  and  see  me  here.  They  are 
exceedingly  particular,  you  know.  But  you  can  bid 
me  good-by  at  the  cars,  and  I  will  write  to  you. 
What  a  pity  you  would  not  always  be  guided  by  me. 

"  I  am  so  glad  about  Augustus.  His  salary  is  a 
hundred  dollars  a  month.  He  is  such  a  dear  boy. 
I  am  finishing  some  shirts  and  things  for  him,  and 
to-morrow  I  sh,all  get  him  a  new  necktie.  It  is  a 
time  since  I  have  been  able  to  do  for  him- 


30  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

'as  I  would  have  liked,  but  now,  if  you  will  redeem 
yourself,  I  hope  for  better  things.  I  wish  you  were 
more  like  Augustus,  but  you  will  not  listen  to  me. 
I  shall  pray  for  you.  I  feel  sure  I  have  had  a  good 
influence  here,  and  Mrs.  Baird  tells  me  so;  but  I 
doubt  if  she  really  understands  me.  She  is  a 
good  woman  and  means  to  be  kind,  but  she 
is  sadly  lacking  in  some  things.  I  have  told  her 
all  about  you,  and  she  sympathises  with  me.  Don't 
forget  that  a  hundred  dollars  will  not  last  forever." 
An  excellent  letter,  from  a  good  young  woman, 
but  it  was  a  long  time  before  it  reached  the  eyes  of 
Fred  Heron. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW   OLIVER  ADJOURNED  A  CONVENTION — A  HINT 
AT  THE   ORIGIN   OF   METAPHYSICS. 

OLIVER  was  a  mule  of  more  than  common  ex- 
perience, as  well  as  natural  abilities,  and  he 
had  thoroughly  mastered  the  features  of  his  own 
case. 

Rest  and  grass  were  what  he  wanted,  the  same  to 
be  taken  in  a  state  of  as  complete  concealment  as 
possible.  The  hollow  he  had  chosen  promised  well 
for  his  requirements,  and  he  did  his  full  duty  by  the 
grass. 

Not  that  he  ate  steadily.  No  mule  was  ever 
known  to  do  that.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  or  so  he 
slowly  and  solemnly  marched  up  the  nearest  slope 
and  took  a  position  in  a  dense  thicket  of  prairie- 
willows.  It  was  just  the  place  where  a  practised 
herdsman  would  have  gone  to  look  for  a  lost  mule, 
but  Oliver  was  in  no  dread  that  anybody  would  be 
looking  for  him.  On  the  contrary,  it  almost  seemed 
as  if  he  were  looking  for  somebody. 

31 


32  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Not  that  he  walked  around,  or  made  any  vain  ex- 
cursions upon  the  open  plain,  for  he  maintained 
his  position  among  the  willows  as  obstinately  as  the 
Turks  did  theirs  at  Plevna. 

The  difference  was  that  nobody  tried  to  drive  him 
out  of  it. 

Nobody  even  looked  at  him,  but  it  was  not  long 
before  he  himself  had  a  view  of  a  solitary  man,  evi- 
dently heavily  laden,  plodding  steadily  along  through 
the  short  grass  at  a  distance  of  nearly  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,  without  any  kind  of  quadruped  to  help  him. 

Ought  Oliver  to  have  hailed  the  doctor?  Or  was 
he  justified  in  harboring  feelings  of  resentment  at 
the  heartless  manner  in  which  he  had  that  morning 
been  left  to  shift  for  himself? 

At  all  events  he  sent  no  hail,  not  even  a  "good-by," 
across  the  intervening  silence.  He  did  but  stretch 
his  ungainly  neck  and  head  in  that  most  ridiculous 
of  all  pantomimes,  a  noiseless  bray.  There  was 
just  a  perceptible  wheeze  and  whimper  at  the  end 
of  it,  for  Dr.  Milyng  was  at  that  moment  disappearing 
over  a  distant  roll  of  the  plain,  and  it  might  well  be 
that  Oliver  would  never  look  upon  his  like  again. 

He  could  bear  that,  perhaps,  better  than  a  load  of 
ore,  gold  or  otherwise.  There  was  more  grass  to  be 
eaten,  and  then  a  siesta  to  be  had  for  purposes 
of  digestion,  but  Oliver  was  no  longer  so  weak  and 
feeble  a  patient  as  he  had  seemed  when  he  lay  down 
in  front  of  the  mining  claim. 


OLIVER  ADJOURNS  A   CONVENTION.  33 

Shade  there  was  none,  in  that  immediate  vicinity^ 
and  Oliver  decided  against  an  expedition  to  the 
forest.  The  short  grass  would  answer  his  temporary 
purposes. 

Still,  it  would  have  been  wise  to  have  first  assured 
himself  of -solitude.  Even  young  ladies  at  board- 
ing schools  know  enough  to  look  under  the  bed  for 
burglars  before  they  turn  the  light  out,  and  Congres- 
sional conventions  inquire  whether  their  candidate 
has  ever  been  convicted  of  anything  before  they  set 
him  up. 

There  were  burglars  on  that  level,  and  they  held  a 
convention  around  Oliver  before  he  had  been  asleep 
half  an  hour. 

Undersized,  gray-headed,  hungry-looking  fellows, 
with  the  faces  of  politicians  and  the  tails  of  foxes, 
but  with  slanderously  sharp  teeth  and  an  inborn 
disposition  to  use  them  on  anything  helpless. 

Anything  like  a  dying  deer  or  a  dead  mule,  for 
instance. 

That  was  the  question  before  the  convention. 

Was  Oliver  dead  ?  Or  was  he  dead  enough  for 
the  purposes  of  such  a  band  of  coyotes  as  were  now 
gathered  around  him? 

Had  he  been  a  statesman  with  a  flaw  in  his  rec- 
ord, he  could  not  have  been  smelt  of  with  more 
respectful  care  before  venturing  an  open  assault. 

More  than  a  dozen  of  them,  and  they  were  work- 
ing their  way  closer  and  closer,  for  Oliver  did  not 


34 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


exhibit  the  slightest  appreciation  of  their  presence. 
He  could  not  be  very  dead,  they  were  beginning  to 
be  sure  of  that,  and  one  elderly  coyote  who  had  ad- 
vanced from  the  rear,  like  the  cautious  and  self-pre- 
serving brute  that  he  was,  suddenly  dropped  on  his 
haunches,  threw  up  his  head,  uttered  a  sharp  bark, 
and  was  about  to  follow  it  with  a  howl  of  grief  over 
the  fear  he  felt  that  their  prey  might  not  yet  be 
quite  ready  for  them. 

Little  he  knew  about  mules,  or  the  Creedmoor  ac- 
curacy with  which  a  mule's  hoof  can  extend  itself 
south-westerly. 

Right  in  the  middle  of  his  howl  and  his  head,  the  hoof 
of  Oliver  struck  him,  and  nothing  more  was  needed 
to  prepare  a  small  lunch  for  his  indignant  comrades. 
They  began  at  once  to  explain  why  nobody  has  ever 
seen  a  dead  coyote. 

As  for  Oliver,  he  had  slept  enough  for  the  time, 
and  was  now  on  his  feet,  lazily  gazing  at  the  snarl- 
ing group  around  the  carcass  of  the  wolf  who  had 
begun  to  wail  for  him.  No  such  thing  as  disturb- 
ing them  seemed  to  enter  his  mind,  nor  was  there, 
to  him,  any  novelty  about  them.  Had  he  not  been 
familiar  with  their  tribe  and  their  ways  from  his 
very  cradle  ? 

He  did  not  so  much  as  call  for  help,  but  he  walked 
leisurely  along,  picking  at  a  bunch  or  so  of  grass,  in 
a  direction  which  would  carry  him  close  past  them. 
Under  other  and  less  exciting  circumstances  they 


OLI VER  AD  JO  URNS  A   CON  YEN  TION.  3  5 

would  have  increased  their  distance,  but  as  it  was, 
they  fought  and  tore  just  the  same,  even  when  he 
turned  his  head  contemptuously  away  from  them. 
He  must  have  had  the  range  to  perfection,  for,  in 
another  instant,  that  villainous  pack  was  scattered 
right  and  left  as  if  something  had  burst  among  them, 
and  Oliver  sprang  away  at  a  pace  which  would  have 
astonished  Dr.  Milyng  if  he  had  witnessed  it. 

There  was  very  little  doubt  but  what  they  would 
follow  him,  but  not  so  many  would  come,  for  the 
coyote  which  had  been  in  the  way  of  Oliver's  heels 
had  all  the  travel  knocked  out  of  him  before  he 
knocked  over  his  companions.  No  wonder  they  at 
once  took  out  their  spite  on  all  that  was  left  of  him. 
He  ought  not  to  have  been  where  the  mule  could 
hit  him. 

There  was  something  very  human  about  it  all, 
on  both  sides,  and  Oliver  could  not  hope  to  be 
forgiven. 

As  for  Dr.  Milyng,  a  couple  of  hours  of  resolute 
marching  sufficed  to  bring  from  his  iron  lips: 

"  I  can  do  it.  No  doubt  of  that.  But  I  must  try 
and  do  better.  The  ruins  are  ten  miles  yet.  I  can 
reach  them  by  noon,  and  then  I  must  look  about  me. 
What  a  pity  Oliver  broke  down.  He  was  the  best 
mule  I  ever  saw,  and  the  knowingest.  He'd  have 
made  the  fortune  of  a  circus,  he  would.  I'd  never 
have  left  him,  if  it  wasn't  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 
There's  that  mine,  too.  The  heart  of  it.  The  golden 


36  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

heart  of  the  continent.  As  if  there  could  be  a  sys- 
tem without  a  heart.  All  the  veins  and  arteries  lead 
to  it.  There's  as  sure  to  be  a  heart  as  a  backbone, 
and  ain't  the  Rocky  Mountains  a  backbone,  I'd  like 
to  know?" 

Not  many  men  could  have  sustained  that  steady, 
unvarying  stride,  under  such  a  weight  as  he  was 
carrying.  Fewer  still  would  have  made  the  at- 
tempt, but  there  is  no  enthusiasm,  except  that  of 
an  apostle  or  a  missionary,  which  will  nerve  a  hu- 
man being  like  the  gold  fever.  Witness  the  deeds 
and  endurances  of  the  early  Spanish  explorers  and 
their  English  buccaneer  assailants. 

Pity  that  humanity  develops  a  Pizarro  or  a  Drake 
so  much  more  frequently  than  a  Paul  or  a  Mar- 
quette  or  a  Judson. 

On  plodded  the  doctor,  as  if  he  knew  the  path 
where  there  was  no  sign  of  a  path,  and  his  eagle  eyes 
were  continually  scanning  the  horizon,  right  and 
left,  in  swift,  keen  glances,  as  if  he  half-expected,  at 
any  moment,  to  detect  some  sign  of  coming  peril. 

"  It'll  come,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Of  course  it'll 
come.  No  man  ever  found  a  gold  mine  yet  but 
what  he  was  followed  by  it.  Don't  I  know?  But  I'll 
beat  it  this  time.  It  can't  follow  me  very  strong, 
with  just  these  specimens.  No,  I  ain't  so  sure  of 
that.  Maybe  a  nugget's  enough." 

He  had  turned  a  little  southerly,  now,  and  before 
long  struck  into  the  slowly  increasing  channel  of 


OLI VER  AD  JO  URNS  A   CON  VEN  TION.  3  7 

what  seemed  to  have  been,  in  some  old  time,  a  water 
course. 

There  were  traces  of  it  further  west,  towards  the 
highlands,  and  here  and  there  the  nature  of  its  too 
regular  banks  and  borders  was  strangely  suggestive 
of  skill  and  purpose  in  their  construction.  As, 
for  instance,  the  skill  and  purpose  of  forgotten 
men. 

The  signs  of  human  operation  increased  as  he 
plodded  onward,  and  even  in  the  deepest  hollows 
crossed  by  the  channel,  the  sloping,  grass-grown 
banks  went  with  it. 

It  was  now  quite  deep  enough  to  protect  a  foot 
passenger  at  the  bottom  of  it  from  being  seen  by 
any  one  at  a  short  distance  on  either  side,  and  Dr. 
Milyng's  moccasined  feet  made  no  sound  on  the 
yielding  sod. 

"  Gone,  all  of  'em.  Gone,"  soliloquized  the  doc- 
tor, as  he  now  and  then  looked  around  him.  "  They 
knew  how  to  build  an  accquia,  but  they  didn't  un- 
derstand gold  mining.  "That's  one  reason  they 
didn't  stay.  To  think  of  their  living  so  near  the 
golden  heart  and  never  knowing  it.  It's  a  danger- 
ous thing  for  one  man  to  know,  however.  I  must 
divide  my  luck  as  soon  as  I  can.  Even  lightning 
doesn't  hurt  if  it  has  plenty  of  conductors  to  run 
through." 

Many  and  diverse  and  contradictory  are  the  su- 
perstitions of  the  mining  community.  In  all  climes 


38  THE  HEART  OF  IT, 

and  ages  they  have  nourished  an  ample  demon- 
ology  of  their  own,  and  have  deemed  themselves  in 
peculiar  relations  with  those  occult  and  eccentric 
agencies  and  intelligences  of  which  the  rest  of  the 
world  has  no  knowledge. 

Even  a  man  of  Dr.  Milyng's  education  and  force 
of  character  could  afford  to  admit,  talking  to  him- 
self, there  in  the  dry  bed  of  the  old  accquia,  ideas 
which  his  pride  of  intellect  would  have  studiously 
concealed  had  he  been  in  the  society  of  men.  He 
might  even  have  scoffed  at  them  on  the  lips  of  an- 
other miner. 

Now,  however,  as  mile  after  mile  was  patiently 
overcome,  the  path  on  which  the  doctor  was  walk- 
ing changed  its  character.  Dry  enough,  to  be  sure, 
but  gravelly  instead  of  grassy,  and  strewn  at  inter- 
vals with  fragments  of  stone. 

Could  those  be  fragments  of  earthenware,  also? 

They  looked  like  it,  but  they  must  have  been  fa- 
miliar objects  to  the  miner,  for  he  paid  them  no 
manner  of  attention,  strong  as  was  their  testimony 
to  some  by-gone  human  workmanship. 

They  meant  something,  even  to  him,  nevertheless, 
for  pretty  soon  he  clambered  cautiously  up  the 
steep  bank  of  the  accquia,  now  more  than  thirty 
feet  high,  and  peered  over  through  the  fringe  of 
tall  grass. 

There  was  a  good  deal  worth  looking  at,  but  the 
only  remark  drawn  from  Dr.  Milyng  was  : 


OLIVER  ADJOURNS  A   CONVENTION.  39 

"  Not  here,  I  should  say,  but  it's  a  good  place  to 
watch  for  'em.  I'll  have  to  run  the  risk  of  being 
cornered  in  one  of  those  traps." 

They  had  never  been  set  for  traps,  at  all  events, 
those  grim,  solid,  mysterious  ruins  of  the  ancient 
city. 

Up  and  down,  at  broken  intervals,  and  with  little 
apparent  regularity,  as  far  as  he  could  see,%were 
scattered  tumbling  walls  and  fragments  of  walls, 
many  of  them  still  retaining  the  form  of  houses.  A 
few  were  of  more  than  one  story  in  height.  Some 
had  been  of  three  and  even  four,  if  an  opinion  could 
be  formed  from  the  successive  apertures  which  may 
have  served  for  windows.  There  is  no  certainty  in 
indications  of  that  sort,  apt  as  men  are  to  accept 
them. 

As  soon  as  he  had  completed  his  precautionary 
survey,  the  doctor  directed  his  rapid  footsteps  to 
the  entrance  of  the  largest  ruin  near  him. 

Temple  or  palace,  or  both,  it  were  hard  to  say, 
and  mattered  little,  just  then,  for  all  that  was  now 
asked  of  it  was  a  hiding-place. 

It  was  easy  to  find  that,  among  the  heaps  of  rub- 
bish and  fallen  masonry  which  cumbered  the  ample 
space  of  the  interior,  and  the  pile  behind  which  the 
miner  threw  himself  may  have  covered  an  altar  or 
a  coronation  stone  equally  well. 

To  rest,  but  not  to  sleep,  for  his  keen  black  eyes 
were  not  closed  an  instant,  and  his  every  sense 


4Q  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

seemed  to  be  on  guard  as  he  lay  and  munched  a 
fragment  of  cold  roast-antelope. 

It  was  a  good  place  to  be  watchful  in,  for  an  hour 
had  hardly  passed  before  there  came  a  sound  of 
horse's  hoofs  outside,  that  drew  nearer  and  clearer 
until  it  ceased  before  the  entrance  of  that  very 
ruin. 

"  Crapped,"  he  whispered.  "  Let's  see  how  it  '11 
turn  out." 

A  good  horse,  with  a  highly  ornamented  Mexi- 
can saddle  and  bridle,  and  the  rider  who  dis- 
mounted from  him  was  worth  crossing  the  street 
to  see. 

A  tall  and  somewhat  corpulent  Indian,  with  a  face 
in  which  pompous  self-conceit  strove  with  coarse 
animal  cunning  for  supremacy. 

Such  a  face  as  comes  to  the  front,  inevitably,  in 
the  councils  of  red  savages,  the  caucusses  of  political 
parties,  and  the  conferences  of  ecclesiastical  func- 
tionaries, as  a  "  medicine  man"  of  some  kind  or 
name. 

Safe  to  win,  in  either  case,  great  influence  in  the 
synagogue,  and  great  power  over  ignorance,  greed, 
prejudice  and  superstition. 

The  first  act  of  the  new-comer,  after  tethering  his 
horse,  was  to  take  off  his  moccasins,  and  lay  them 
together  in  the  doorway  with  the  toes  pointing  out- 
ward, as  if  to  suggest  to  other  men  a  similar  direc- 
tion for  their  own. 


OLI VER  AD  JO  URNS  A  CON  VEN  TION.  4  r 

A  good  enough  idea,  probably,  among  barbarians, 
but  in  any  highly  civilized  Christian  community,  it 
would  but  have  cost  him  that  elegantly  embroi- 
dered pair  of  moccasins. 

This  done,  he  went  back  among  the  cool  shadows, 
near  the  heap  which  sheltered  Dr.  Milyng,  and  lay 
down,  spreading  under  him  the  broad  folds  of  an 
immense  robe  of  skins  which  he  had  taken  from  be- 
hind his  saddle.  Many  and  marvellous  were  the 
hieroglyphics  painted  on  the  velvety  inside  finish 
of  that  robe,  and  some  of  them  seemed  to  corres- 
pond with  the  tattooing  now  exposed  on  the  dark 
skin  of  its  owner. 

Not  a  man  in  his  tribe  would  have  stolen  that 
robe,  for  his  life>  much  less  wrapped  its  mystery 
around  him. 

A  pipe,  tobacco,  a  tedious  struggle  with  flint  and 
steel  for  a  light,  and  then  the  comfort  of  a  smoke. 
All  Indians  are  fond  of  smoking,  when  they  can  get 
the  wherewithal. 

But  there  was  something  curious  in  the  odor  of 
that  tobacco. 

Well,  could  a  great  medicine  man  be  expected  to 
produce  the  same  odor  with  ordinary  mortals? 

Certainly  not,  and  the  odor  left  by  some  of  them 
has  indeed  been  extraordinary. 

There  was  more  than  tobacco  in  the  bowl  of  that 
fantastically  carven  pipe,  and  more  was  expected 
from  it  by  the  man  who  smoked. 


42  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

It  was  "  big  medicine,"  but  who  shall  say  from 
what  unknown  plant  of  the  far  West  he  had  obtained 
the  strong  narcotic  which  speedily  put  an  end 
to  even  the  gentle  exercise  of  sucking  the  pipe- 
stem  ? 

These,  doubtless,  were  a  part  of  the  devotions 
which  obtained  him  the  reverence  of  his  fellows. 
Not  another  man  of  them  could  put  himself  in 
such  a  state  of  absolute  oblivion,  without  the 
aid  of  whiskey,  and  he  was  to  be  respected  accord- 
ingly. 

For  now  there  came  the  sound  of  the  feet  of 
other  horses,  many  of  them,  and,  as  they  passed, 
their  riders  paused  briefly  for  a  stare  at  the  pair  of 
moccasins.  One  or  two  of  the  bolder  ones  threw 
themselves  off  and  peered  in  for  a  moment,  but  it 
was  only  to  make  sure  of  the  presence  and  condition 
of  the  "Big  Medicine."  If  they  envied  him,  or  if 
they  feared  him,  they  said  nothing  about  it,  but  re- 
mounted and  rode  on.  A  mile  or  so  further  down, 
the  whole  band  halted  near  a  spring,  and  went  into 
camp  as  if  they  meant  to  stay  for  a  day  or  so.  They 
may.  have  numbered  a  hundred  braves,  with  squaws 
and  pappooses  to  match,  and  could  not,  therefore, 
have  been  on  any  war-path.  It  was  a  capital  place 
for  an  Indian  camp,  with  plenty  of  grass  and  water, 
game  in  the  neighborhood,  and  a  big  medicine  man 
smoke-drunk  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  They  were 
not  likely  to  trouble  him,  however,  but  would  pa- 


OLIVER  ADJOURNS  A   CONVENTION.  43 

tiently  wait  till  he  should  wake  up  and  come  to  tell 
them  all  he  had  learned  during  his  slumber.  If  he 
should  happen  to  tell  them  anything  over  and  above, 
he  would  not  be  the  first  of  his  kind  to  exhibit  that 
species  of  liberality. 

But  then  he  was  not  altogether  alone   in  the  old 
ruin,  just  now. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  DOG  WITH  A  POSITION  IN  LIFE — A  DOG  WITH- 
OUT ANY  POSITION,  AND  HOW  WHAT  HE  HAD 
WAS  TAKEN  FROM  HIM — WITH  A  WARNING  TO 
PEOPLE  WHOSE  PROSPERITY  CROWDS  OTHER 
PEOPLE. 

WHEN  good  Dr.  Derrick  transferred  his  just 
chagrin  and  disappointment  from  Daniel 
Brown's  library  to  the  cab  which  was  to  bear  him 
home,  the  form  of  a  man  stood  by  the  gate  as  he 
hastened  through  it. 

It  may  have  been  a  gentleman,  for  all  he  knew, 
but  his  glance  at  it  was  too  brief  for  certainty,  and 
the  word  which  escaped  him  by  way  of  comment 
or  recognition,  was  only — 

"  Tramp." 

It  could  not  have  been  an  order,  for  it  was  not 
uttered  as  such,  and  the  man  on  whose  ears  it  fell 
had  been  tramping  all  day,  through  the  hot  streets 
of  the  wearisome  city.  The  cab  rolled  away  at  once, 
and  the  man  stood  there  by  the  gate,  but  he  was  now 
44 


A  DOG    WITH  A  POSITION^. 


45 


repeating  in  a  low  voice,  the  remark  of  Dr. 
Derrick. 

"  Tramp.  That's  it.  Whoever  he  is,  he's  right. 
I'm  a  tramp,  and  I  have  been  one  for  a  month.  I, 
Frederick  Heron.  Homeless,  houseless,  penniless, 
friendless,  hungry,  dirty, — a  tramp.  No,  Bob  Fett- 
ridge  taught  me  a  lesson,  to-day,  and  I  mean  to  hunt 
up  my  friends  to-morrow.  I  feel  more  like  it,  some- 
how. Won't  borrow  any  money,  though.  Glad  Gus 
is  provided  for,  but  he  might  have  paid  his  board 
bill.  Bessie,  too, — all  her  piety's  going  west.  No, 
I  guess  I  won't  see  her  off.  A  tramp  has  no  busi- 
ness among  so  much  respectability.  I'm  clean,  now, 
though;  I  can  feel  that,  all  over.  Got  a  clean  shirt 
on  and  some  stamps  in  my  pocket.  Mustn't  waste 
them  on  a  lodging,  such  a  fine  warm  night  as  this. 
I  reckon  I  can  get  a  place  on  some  newspaper.  I 
understand  that  sort  of  thing.  Hallo,  what's  that? 
More  tramps?" 

He  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  stone  gate 
post,  while  he  talked  to  himself,  and  all  the  street 
and  neighborhood  seemed  utterly  deserted.  Not 
even  a  policeman  in  sight,  though  that  by  no  means 
implied  solitude. 

Perhaps  it  invited  the  company  of  the  two  persons 
who  were  now  walking  so  rapidly  around  the 
corner. 

"  I  saw  them  throw  something  over,  I'm  sure  I 
did.  It  lit  on  the  gravel  walk,  inside.  I've  heard 


46  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

of  an  empty  pocketbook  disposed  of  in  that  way. 
Can't  help  it.  I  must  investigate." 

Noiselessly  the  gate  was  opened,  and  in  a  moment 
Fred  Heron  was  hidden  among  the  shrubbery. 

He  had  but  a  few  rods  to  go,  and  then  he  once 
more  came  out  into  the  dim  light. 

"  Not  a  pocketbook,  this  time.  But  how  came 
they  to  throw  away  a  good  piece  of  meat  like  that? 
Cooked.  Let  me  see.  Dogs  eat  meat.  Some 
meat  doesn't  agree  with  some  dogs.  I  must  try  an 
experiment.  There  are  plenty  of  poor  dogs  with  no 
meat.  I  must  find  one." 

The  spikes  of  the  iron  fence  compelled  a  return 
by  way  of  the  gate,  but  Fred  was  quickly  in  the 
street. 

"  O  for  a  dog.  My  kingdom  fora  dog.  There 
comes  one.  Yellow  as  the  hair  of  Sigurd,  and  as 
hungry  as  a  boarding  house.  He  shall  try  my  ex- 
periment. It's  the  way  the  patent  medicine  men 
test  their  new  pills.  If  it  doesn't  kill  him  I'll  make 
him  give  me  a  certificate." 

Gently  and  kindly,  like  a  fly  at  the  wary  head 
of  a  trout,  the  savory  half-pound  of  beef  was 
launched  in  the  path  of  the  wandering  quadruped. 

A  sniff,  a  yelp  of  joy,  a  gulp,  and  the  dog  went 
on. 

"  He  is  carrying  off  my  experiment.  I  must  fol- 
low him." 

More  than  one  square,  but  not  many,  and  then  a 


A  DOG   WITH  A  POSITION.  47 

sudden  change  made  itself  manifest.  A  pause,  a 
shudder,  a  growl,  a  yelp,  a  spasm,  and  then  a  mass 
of  yellow  hair  and  legs  lay  kicking  for  a  minute  in  the 
gutter. 

"  A  most  convincing  certificate,"  remarked  Fred. 
"  The  city  is  thoroughly  cured  of  that  dog  at  one 
dose.  But  I  think  the  wrong  patient  got  it.  I 
must  continue  my  investigations.  Verily,  this  is 
gay.  But  I  care  not  to  make  too  close  an  acquaint- 
ance of  the  other  dog." 

Strange  spirits  for  a  tramp  to  be  in,  and  strange 
recklessness  on  his  part  to  venture  again  among  the 
shadows  and  shrubbery  of  Daniel  Brown's  princely 
residence. 

There  was  a  sort  of  fascination  in  the  adventure, 
and  he  drew  nearer  the  house,  till  he  stood  under 
the  dense  foliage  of  a  lilac  bush,  near  one  of  the 
library  windows,  looking  up.  The  wire  mosquito- 
gauze  protected  the  privacy  of  the  interior,  but  just 
then  a  shadow  fell  upon  it.  A  clearly  out-lined 
shadow,  growing  clearer,  until  a  robe  of  white  and 
then  a  face  was  pressed  against  the  dim  and  misty 
barrier.  A  sweet,  sunny  face,  as  pure  as  a  new 
moon,  but  with  a  trace  of  hauteur  in  it. 

Fred  looked  and  looked,  and  then,  as  it  disap- 
peared, his  own  face  went  down  upon  his  hands. 

<;  They  are  not  all  dead,  those  women.  That 
was  one  of  them.  I  used  to  know  such.  Would 
any  of  them  know  me  now?  I  guess  not.  Only 


48  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

such  men  as  Bob  Fettridge.  The  more  a  man  or  a 
woman  thinks  he  or  she  is  imitating  Christ,  nowa- 
days, the  more  careful  they  are  not  to  speak  to 
publicans  and  sinners.  It's  'most  two  thousand 
years  since  He  died,  and  He  has  not  yet  come 
again.  The  publicans  and  sinners  are  here  yet,  though. 
I'm  one  of  'em.  Hey,  there's  that  dog  !" 

Not  the  same  animal,  indeed,  but  a  most  lordly 
compound  of  mastiff  and  St.  Bernard.  The  kind  of 
dog  whose  acquaintance  is  better  to  be  cultivated 
by  day  than  by  night,  and  in  other  grounds  than 
those  of  his  own  master. 

It  was  too  late  to  try  for  the  gate,  for  the  stately 
promenade  of  the  rich  man's  guardian  was  carrying 
him  down  the  gravel  walk  in  that  precise  direction. 

"  Glad  there  are  trees  in  the  world,"  remarked 
Fred.  "  I'm  a  bigger  man  than  Zaccheus,  but  I 
need  some  kind  of  a  sycamore  a*s  badly  as  he  did. 
Nobody  could  sic  a  more  disagreeable  brute  than 
that  on  a  fellow." 

The  big  dog  was  evidently  on  a  scouting  expedi- 
tion, after  being  released  from  his  day's  confine- 
ment, and  meant  to  make  sure  of  the  safety  of  his 
beat,  like  a  policeman,  before  he  lay  down  any- 
where. The  first  incident  to  disturb  his  mind  was 
the  spot  on  the  gravel  where  the  meat  had  fallen". 
His  detective  nose  at  once  informed  him  that 
something  was  wrong.  Meat  there  had  been,  and 
meat  there  was  not  now,  and  he  rapidly  ranged  to 


A  DOG   WITH  A  POSITION.  49 

and  fro  in  all  directions,  with  a  plain  desire  to  meet 
the  solution  of  his  problem. 

Foot-prints  ! — and  his  nose  again  suggested  that 
these  were  not  the  accustomed  prints  of  the  place. 

"  A  very  good  tree,"  remarked  Fred,  as  he  swung 
himself  into  the  lower  branches  of   a   fine  horse- 1 
chestnut. 

"  I'm  glad  the  dog  is  not  a  climbing  animal.  He 
has  not  yet  reached  that  stage  of  his  development. 
The  squirrel  and  the  tree-toad  are  between  him  and 
humanity.  He  owes  at  least  that  much  to  Mr. 
Darwin.  Here  he  is,  now,  right  under  me.  A 
lower  form  of  life,  and  I'm  wonderfully  glad  of  it, 
just  now.  But  what  a  voice  he  has.  Great  native 
power,  but  no  cultivation." 

He  was  there,  declaring  by  great  bounds  and 
cavernous  growls  his  disgust  for  the  fact  that  he 
could  not  climb. 

He  could  summon  help,  however,  and  in  less  than 
a  minute  more  he  was  joined,  as  Fred  expressed  it, 
by  "  one  of  those  nobler  types  of  being  who  can 
climb." 

"  What  are  you  doing  up  there  ?" 

"  Keeping  out  of  the  dog's  way." 

"  But  how  came  you  up  there?" 

"  Climbed  the  tree." 

"  I'll  have  you  arrested.  What  are  you  doing  on 
my  grounds?" 

"  I  came  in,  my  dear  sir,  to  steal  a  piece  of  meat 


50  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

which  a  couple  of  gentlemen  had  presented  to  your 
dog.  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  I  succeeded,  judg- 
ing by  its  effects  upon  the  other  dog." 

"  What  other  dog?" 

"  The  one  I  gave  it  to.  If  you'll  call  off  this 
one,  I'll  go  and  show  him  to  you.  It's  only  a  little 
way.  He  is  waiting  for  the  coroner." 

"Down,  Prince.  Be  quiet.  He'll  not  hurt  you, 
sir — 

"  My  name  is  not  Prince,  but  I'll  come  down.  I 
should  hardly  care  to  spend  the  night  here.  Your 
dog  might  take  me  for  the  moon,  and  I  like  not  his 
baying. 

"  Explain,  sir,  I  beg  you.  You  seem  to  be  a 
gentleman — 

"  By  no  means,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Fred,  as  he 
alighted,  "  I  am  a  tramp,  but  when  a  dog  is  to  be  pois- 
oned, I  have  my  preferences.  Permit  me  to  add 
that  if  I  were  you  I  would  put  up  extra  mosquito 
bars,  to-night.  You  may  have  visitors  before 
morning." 

"  Prince  will  take  care  of  that." 

"  Not  unless  you  can  cure  him  of  his  fatal  and 
most  brutal  fondness  for  animal  food.  Will  you 
come  with  me  and  view  the  remains  of  the  other 
dog?" 

"I  will,  indeed.  It  seems  I  owe  you  a  debt  of 
thanks.  I  am  Mr.  Daniel  Brown,  of  No.  340 
Beaver  Street,  merchant — " 


A  DOG   WITH  A  POSITION.  5  ! 

"And  I  am  Mr.  Frederick  Heron,  cosmopolite, 
which  means  that  my  politeness  is  cosmic  in  its 
character.  Your  dog  should  reflect  upon  his  past 
life,  Mr.  Brown.  He  has  had  a  very  narrow  escape." 

The  dignity  of  the  man  of  wealth  and  standing 
chafed  sorely  under  the  easy  freedom  of  the  chaff 
he  was  undergoing,  but  his  blood  was  up  a  little  and 
he  had  plenty  of  it. 

Fred  had  apparently  paid  no  manner  of  attention 
to  three  or  four  servants,  male  and  female,  who  had 
by  this  time  made  their  appearance.  He  had  even 
ignored  the  presence,  a  few  paces  back  among  the 
shadows,  of  a  slight  and  graceful  shape  in  a  white 
robe,  nor  did  he  turn  his  head  when  a  clear  but  anx- 
ious voice  inquired — 

"  Uncle  Daniel,  shall  you  be  gone  long?" 

"Only  a  moment,  Mabel.  Our  friend  here  has 
something  to  show  me." 

"  Come  here,  Prince." 

The  dog  looked  wistfully  at  his  master,  but  the 
question  of  his  duty  settled  itself  at  once.  He 
could  not  climb,  but  he  could  march  back  like  a  hero 
and  take  up  the  position  of  a  defending  champion 
by  the  side  of  that  young  lady  in  white.  She 
would  be  in  excellent  company  during  her  uncle's 
absence,  and  any  tramp  who  should  come  too  near 
would  be  likely  to  get  a  lesson  in  the  tendency 
which  large  dogs  have  for  animal  food. 

As  Mr.  Brown  and  his  strange  visitor  walked  on- 


$2  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

ward,  the  former  received  a  brief  and  clear  account  of 
the  suspicious  occurrences,  and  the  yet  warm  carcase 
of  the  yellow  dog  afforded  abundant  corroboration. 

"  They'll  come  again,  sir,  depend  upon  it,  but 
then  you — " 

"  Yes,  I  came  again,"  drily  interrupted  Fred.  "  I 
am  fond  of  sleeping  in  the  open  air  in  such  weather 
as  this,  and  besides,  I  wanted  to  see  the  rest  of  it." 

"  The  rest  of  it  ?  O  the  operations  of  those  two 
men.  Why  did  you  not  give  the  alarm  ?" 

"I  did  not  feel  any.  "Besides,  I  have  not  the 
honor  of  your  acquaintance." 

"  I  told  you—" 

"So  you  did,  but  I  should  prefer  an  introduction 
by  some  responsible  party  known  to  me.  No  of- 
fence, my  dear  sir,  but  there  are  so  many  impostors, 
nowadays.  You  would  probably  have  told  me  the 
same  if  I  had  rung  your  door-bell  or  called  upon  you 
at  your  office." 

"  But  then  you  did  not  scruple  to  trespass  on  my 
grounds?" 

"  Certainly  not.  They  are  yours,  no  doubt,  but 
then,  since  I  became  a  tramp  I  have  learned  to 
doubt  your  right  to  them." 

"  My  right  to  them  ?" 

"  Any  man's  right  to  so  large  a  slice  of  the  earth's 
surface,  when  there  is  so  little  of  it  in  this  neigh- 
borhood." 

"  A  communist  ?" 


A  DOG  WITH  A  POSITION.  53 

"  By  no  means.  Only  a  tramp.  I  believe  in  the 
rights  of  property.  I  only  mean  there  are  some 
other  rights,  that's  all.  If  I  were  rich,  now,  I  might 
not  see  some  things  so  clearly.  I  doubt  if  the  rich 
men  ever  will  see  them  until  it  is  too  late." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  too  late  ?" 

"  Until  the  men  who  are  crowded  off,  over  the 
edge  of  things,  get  to  be  more  numerous  and  power- 
ful than  the  men  who  are  doing  the  crowding." 

They  had  arrived  again  in  front  of  Mr.  Brown's 
gate,  and  the  latter  responded : 

"  You  interest  me  very  much,  sir;  will  you  not 
walk  in  ?  I  would  like  to  talk  with  you." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so,  I  assure  you,  but  I 
never  accept  a  courtesy  which  I  cannot  return." 

"  The  courtesy  is  to  me,  my  friend.  Besides,  you 
have  saved  the  life  of  my  dog,  and  warned  me  of  a 
danger.  I  think  your  pride  need  not  be  in  the 
way." 

"  I  will,  then,  but  I  think  I  had  better  not  come 
in  as  a  gentleman.  Simply  as  a  tramp." 

"As  you  please." 

Fred  Heron  looked  around  him  admiringly  as  he 
shortly  took  his  seat  in  the  library,  and  his  host 
noticed  that  he  seemed  very  much  at  home.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  he  had  been  in  such  a  place  as 
that,  and  the  vagabondish  "chaff"  of  face  and 
manner  disappeared  the  moment  he  crossed  the 
threshold. 


54 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


Did  such  men  ever  go  unfed,  and  sleep  in  the 
open  air?  Men  with  good  clothes,  polished  boots 
and  clean  linen?  Mr.  Brown's  keen  common  sense 
told  him  that  he  had  gotten  hold  of  either  a  very 
remarkable  or  a  very  suspicious  case,  but  he  soon 
found  that  it  was  all  in  vam  to  ask  leading  questions 
of  his  singular  "  tramp." 

Books,  social,  political,  even  religious  questions, 
he  was  quite  ready  and  willing  to  discuss,  but  not 
himself,  from  any  point  of  view.  Mr.  Brown  found 
that  he  had  met  his  match,  and  a  little  more,  conver- 
sationally, and  now,  as  they  warmed  up  to  it,  not 
the  rich  man  himself  was  more  gravely,  dignifiedly 
courteous,  than  the  stranger  he  had  found  in  his 
horse  chestnut  tree. 

"Uncle  Daniel?" 

"What  is  it,  Mabel?" 

"  There's  a  policeman  at  the  front  door.  Ithink 
Mike  spoke  to  him." 

"A  policeman?  O  yes,  I  must  tell  him  about  the 
tramps.  Sit  still,  Mr.  Heron.  My  niece,  Miss 
Varick." 

And  Mabel  Varick' s  bow  was  not  one  shade  more 
icily  distant  than  Fred  Heron's  own. 

Had  he  failed  there  he  would  have  failed  in- 
deed, but  when  Mr.  Brown  returned,  after  an  absence 
of  five  minutes,  his  astonished  ears  informed  him 
that  his  exclusive  niece  was  defending  the  bay  and 
sky  of  Naples  against  a  subtle  assault  on  the  part 


A  DOG   WITH  A  POSITION.  55 

of  the  vagabond  who  had  poisoned  the  yellow  dog. 

"  No,  Miss  Varick,  the  Italian  sky  is  very  well  in 
its  way,  for  Italians,  and  so  forth.  It  gained  its 
reputation  before  ours  was  known.  It  keeps  it  be- 
cause so  few  good  judges  have  ventured  to  cross 
the  sea  or  dared  to  tell  the  truth  afterwards." 

And  yet  there  was  nothing  at  all  irritating  in  the 
way  he  said  it. 

Mr.  Brown  was  compelled  to  say  to  himself: 

"  He  may  be  a  tramp,  now,  but  he  has  been  a 
gentleman.  I  must  and  will  know  more  about 
him." 

The  evening  was  slipping  away,  however,  and 
shortly  after  Mabel  Varick  withdrew,  Fred  arose  to 
excuse  himself. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  time  it  is,  Mr.  Brown,  but 
I'm  sure  it  is  late." 

"  I  have  enjoyed  your  conversation  exceedingly, 
my  dear  sir.  May  I  not  offer  you  a  bed?  I  think 
you  told  me  you  intended — " 

"To  sleep  in  the  open  air?  Certainly,  as  becomes 
a  tramp.  I  could  not  accept  your  hospitality." 

"  Not  even  the  wherewithal  to  purchase  a  lodg- 
ing?" 

"  No,  indeed,  for  I  am  also  a  gentleman." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that.  You  are  evidently  a  man  of 
good  family  and  education." 

"  The  best  in  the  world,  sir.  I  have  been  taught 
in  the  school  of  adversity.  None  better.  As  fot 


5 6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

family,  I  am  a  lineal  descendant  of  Esau,  an  Edom- 
ite  of  the  purest  blood." 

"An  Edomite?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  I  have  even  consumed  my 
pottage,  now  my  inheritance  is  gone.  Esau  could 
have  done  no  better.  The  descendants  of  Jacob 
are  even  now  in  possession  of  all  I  had  left." 

"  I  think  I  understand  you.  They  are  always  on 
the  lookout  for  Edomites.  But  shall  I  not  see  you 
again  ?  I  should  be  glad  to  do  you  a  service." 

"  To-morrow,  then.  Not  to-night.  This  is  my 
last  day  of  tramping." 

"  I  hope  so.  I  have  never  met  a  man  in  whom  I 
took  so  deep  an  interest." 

"  Thank  you.  Please  suggest  to  Prince  that  I 
have  no  further  designs  on  his  trees.  Good-night, 
Mr.  Brown." 

"  Good-night,  Mr.   Heron.     Prince,  come    here, 


sir." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ONE   KIND   OF    GUARDIAN  ANGEL. 

BESSIE  HERON  descended  into  the  parlor, 
after  finishing  her  sisterly  letter  to  Fred.  She 
had  done  her  duty  by  him,  speaking  very  plainly, 
as  was  her  wont,  and  her  conscience  was  therefore 
as  clear  as  was  the  gaze  with  which  her  comprehen- 
sive, blue-gray  eyes  met  those  of  Mrs.  Baird  and 
her  lady  visitor. 

Not  above  the  medium  height  was  Bessie, 
and  although  she  could  hardly  be  called  pretty, 
there  was  a  good  deal  about  her  that  was  interest- 
ing and  even  attractive.  She  had,  above  all  things, 
the  rare  and  valuable  gift  of  concentrating  upon 
herself  and  her  own  affairs  the  attention  of  any  lit- 
tle coterie  of  her  own  sex  in  which  she  might  hap- 
pen to  find  herself.  She  was  one  of  those  young 
ladies  who,  from  childhood  up,  are  invariably  in 
need  of  a  helping  hand,  and  who  just  as  invariably 
manage  to  get  it.  How  they  escape  becoming  self- 
supporting,  at  some  period,  is  a  miracle,  but  they 
do  it.  There  are  men  of  the  same  sort,  but  unless 

57 


58  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

they  are  very  "  religious,"  and  they  sometimes 
are,  they  drift  out  of  sight  sooner  than  the  women 
do.  Defects  of  early  education  are  sometimes 
largely  to  blame,  but  the  puzzle  is,  after  all,  that  no 
amount  of  later  education,  even  in  hard  schools, 
seems  adequate  to  correct  the  difficulty.  Never  by 
any  chance,  however,  does  a  male  or  female  of  this 
class  admit  the  possibility  of  any  fault  or  failing  on 
their  own  part.  To  do  so  wrould  in  a  manner  forfeit 
their  best  claim  to  the  sympathy  of  a  soft-hearted 
and  well-meaning,  but,  in  their  eyes,  a  very  imperfect 
and  unappreciative  world. 

Good  Mrs.  Baird  was  already  aware  that  Bessie 
had  obtained  the  means  for  her  proposed  transfer 
of  residence,  and  her  strong,  kindly,  motherly  face 
was  beaming  with  good  will  as  she  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Boyce  and  I  have  been  talking  about  you 
and  your  prospects,  dear.  Have  you  written  your 
letter  to  your  brother?" 

"To  Fred?  Yes,  Mrs.  Baird.  I  have  said  all  I 
know  how.  I  am  hoping,  sincerely,  that  he  is  on 
the  right  path,  at  last." 

"  Do  you  know  what  he  is  doing?" 

"  O  no.  He  does  not  tell  me.  I  have  suggested  a 
great  many  things,  but  he  never  would  follow  my  ad- 
vice. If  he  had, things  would  have  been  very  different." 

"Your  brother  Augustus  is  doing  well,  is  he  not? 
Mrs.  Baird  tells  me  he  has  got  a  place,"  said  Mrs. 
Boyce. 


ONE  KIND  OF  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  59 

,  "Yes,  I'm  thankful  for  that.  He  went  to  some 
old  friends  of  Fred's,  and  they  were  glad  to  take 
him.  I  wish  Fred  would  do  something  for  himself." 

"  Was  he  not  out  of  health,  for  a  long  time?" 

"Yes,  very  much,"  and  a  deep  sigh  conveyed  a 
world  of  meaning  as  to  the  nature  of  her  brother's 
illness. 

"Something  he  contracted  in  the  army?" 

u  Yes,  it  was  in  the  army." 

And  the  second  sigh  was  deeper  than  the  first. 

A  polished,  admirably  well-dressed  lady  was  Mrs. 
Boyce,  with  a  soft,  winning  music  in  her  tone,  and 
a  subtle  caress  in  every  smile,  but  her  smooth  hand- 
some face  told  no  tales  whatever  of  what  might  be 
going  on  behind  it.  The  faintest  suggestion  of 
grief  was  in  the  colors  she  wore,  for  she  had  left  her 
married  life  behind  her  for  nearly  a  second  year. 
Such  a  friend  she  might  have  been  to  a  young 
woman  like  Bessie  Heron,  and  Bessie  had  often 
thought  of  it,  but  it  was  too  late  now,  at  least  for  the 
present. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  melodiously,  "perhaps  I 
can  help  your  brother.  He  is  very  capable,  I  am 
sure,  from  what  Mrs.  Baird  has  told  me.  I  will 
speak  about  him  to  my  friend  Mr.  Brown,  the  great 
merchant.  He  is  retiring  from  business,  a  little, 
but  I'm  sure  he  could  find  a  place  for  your  brother." 

"  I  would  be  so  thankful,  Mrs.  Boyce,  but  then  he 
ought  not  to  be  misinformed.  He  should  know  all 


60  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

about  Fred  before  he  takes  him.  Mrs.  Baird  will 
bear  me  witness  that  I  have  concealed  nothing  from 
her.  She  can  tell  you  anything  you  want  to 
know." 

"Why?     Does  he  drink?" 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Boyce,  it  is  so  very  painful  to  me. 
He  is  my  brother,  you  know,  and  I  do  so  want  to 
help  him  !  I  would  not  prejudice  you  against  him 
for  the  world.  He  will  redeem  himself,  I  feel  sure 
he  will." 

Mrs.  Boyce  smiled  very  sweetly  and  sympathiz- 
ingly,  and  Bessie  looked  for  a  moment  like  a  nice 
little  martyr  in  a  picture,  but  Mrs.  Baird's  foot  was 
tapping  uneasily  on  the  carpet. 

"  Does  he  gamble?"  she  exclaimed.  "  Where 
did  he  get  the  hundred  dollars  he  sent  you  to-day?" 

"Did  he  send  her  a  hundred  dollars?"  softly  in- 
quired Mrs.  Boyce.  "He  is  a  good  brother,  then. 
He  cannot  be  all  bad.  I  should  so  like  to  see  him. 
Does  he  not  write  for  the  newspapers  ?" 

"O  yes,"  replied  Bessie,  willing  to  skip  financial 
questions,  "and  I  have  often  urged  him  to  take  a 
place  on  some  newspaper  or  magazine,  as  editor. 
He  would  have  a  good  salary  then,  and  I  should  no 
longer  be  dependent  on  friends." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  an  excellent  thing  to  do," 
said  Mrs.  Boyce,  "  or  he  might  start  a  newspaper  of 
his  own.  Just  think  how  profitable  some  of  them 
are." 


OAF  KIND  OF  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  6 1 

"  But  that  requires  capital  ?"  vaguely  suggested 
Mrs.  Baird.  "And  they  all  have  editors  of  their 
own,  have  they  not  ?" 

"  Fred  himself  made  some  such  objection,  when  I 
spoke  to  him,"  said  Bessie,  "  but  I  told  him  that 
where  there  was  a  will  there  was  a  way.  Other 
men  have  done  it,  and  he  could.  He  lacks  ambition, 
I  fear." 

"  Pity  he  is  not  married,"  cooed  Mrs.  Boyce, 
"that  would  tend  to  steady  him." 

"  O  Mrs.  Boyce,  that  would  be  dreadful.  Think 
of  Fred  with  a  wife.  He  came  very  near  it,  once. 
Quite  a  fortune,  too." 

"Was  it  broken  off?" 

"  Long  ago.  About  the  time  he  began  to  go 
down." 

"  But  what  was  the  trouble?" 

"  It  is  so  hard  to  say.  Of  course  I  cannot  give 
her  name,  but  I  went  to  see  her,  myself." 

"Went  to  see  her?  What  did  she  say?" — and 
there  was  a  curious  look  on  the  widow's  face  when 
she  asked  the  question. 

"  O  it  was  no  manner  of  good.  I  told  her  all 
about  him,  and  begged  her  to  try  and  reform  him, 
but  she  would  not  listen  to  me." 

"  Ahem!  There's  nothing  a  sister  will  not  do  for 
an  erring  brother.  But  I  must  be  going,  Mrs. 
Baird.  Miss  Heron,  I  really  mean  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Brown  about  Fred.  He  was  a  near  friend  of  my 


62  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

husband,  and  I  know  he  would  be  glad  to  oblige  me. 
I  hope  you  will  have  a.  nice  time  with  your  western 
friends." 

Parting  words,  plenty  of  them,  a  kiss  or  two,  and 
Mrs.  Baird  and  Bessie  were  left  alone. 

"  Such  a  sweet  woman,"  said  the  former. 

"  But  I  fear  she  is  worldly,  Mrs.  Baird.  She  has 
so  large  a  share  of  this  world's  goods.  Do  you  not 
think  she  is  inclined  to  be  politic  ?" 

"  She  is  a  great  fool  if  she's  not,  my  dear.  I  no- 
tice that  she  is  exceedingly  careful  as  to  what  she 
says  about  other  people." 

"  But  one  should  always  tell  the  truth,  Mrs.  Baird." 

"  If  they  know  it.  Or  else  say  nothing  at  all.  I 
wish  I  knew  the  truth  about  your  brother." 

"So  do  I,  indeed,  but  he  never  tells  me  any  thing, 

and  he  is  so  proud  and  independent.     If   he  would 

only  learn  a  little  true  humility  and  be  more  frank, 

I  should   take  it  as   a  hopeful   sign    of  his   repent- 

.ance." 

Mrs.  Baird  had  something  like  a  doubt  written  on 
her  face  as  she  listened,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Bessie  excused  herself  for  returning  to  her  own  room 
to  pack  up. 

It  was  after- she  had  gone  that  Mrs.  Baird  came 
out  of  a  long  fit  of  musing  with— 

"  No,  I  shall  not  ask  her  to  come  back  here.  It 
is  not  my  duty.  I  think  I've  done  my  share.  But 
I  mean  to  ask  Mr.  Baird  to  hunt  up  her  brother 


ONE  KIND  OF  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  63 

Fred.  What  can  he  have  done  that  is  so  dread- 
ful. She  ought  to  tell,  if  she  knows.  Mr.  Baird 
can  find  out,  anyhow." 

And  Bessie,  in  her  own  room,  was  arranging  a 
good- sized  trunk  and  soliloquizing — 

"  No,  I  sometimes  fear  Mrs.  Baird  herself  does 
not  understand  me.  But  how  can  .1  expect  that 
from  strangers,  when  my  own  brother  will  not  yield 
to  my  influence  ?  I  have  done  all  I  could  for  him. 
I  think  I  will  write  and  tell  him  I've  enlisted  Mrs. 
Boyce  for  him.  So  many  friends  and  opportunities 
I  have  brought  him,  and  he  has  thrown  them  all 
away.  If  I  could  only  see  Mr.  Brown,  myself,  now, 
and  tell  him  just  what  Fred  is!" 

If  she  could  but  have  done  so,  what  a  grand 
opening  Fred  Heron  would  have  had,  fight  before 
him.  A  grand  one  ! 

And  yet  she  was  a  good  young  woman,  and  her 
intentions  were  excellent.  She  would  have  said  as 
much  herself,  and  believed  every  word  of  it.  Fire 
could  not  have  burned  that  conviction  out  of  her. 
Neither  as  to  her  own  goodness  or  the  goodness  of 
her  good  intentions.  But  they  would  have  paved 
quite  a  section  of — well,  of  Boston,  for  instance, 
nevertheless.  And  Mrs.  Boyce,  lazily  lying  back  in 
her  carriage,  on  her  way  home,  was  not  thinking  of 
either  of  the  two  ladies  with  whom  she  had  been 
talking.  No,  nor  of  Fred  Heron,  either. 

She  was  saying  to  herself — 


64  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  Well,  it  did  me  good  to  go  out.  I'd  have  gone 
wild  if  I'd  remained  any  longer  cooped  up  at  home. 
I  must  see  Mr.  Brown  to-morrow,  indeed.  He  will 
know  what  is  best  to  be  done.  I  could  hardly  do 
better  than  to  leave  everything  in  his  hands.  The 
clearest  head  !  And  then  he's  got  a  heart  of  gold. 
I  wish  there  were  more  such  men.  And  what  a 
sweet  girl  Mabel  is.  Wonderfully  set  in  her  way. 
If  she  belonged  to  our  church  she'd  6e  a  terrible 
ritualist.  But  then  Mr.  Brown's  liberal  enough. 
He  thinks  for  himself.  So  do  I,  but  I  think  I'm  in 
dreadfully  hot  water,  just  at  this  present  time." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
"UGH!" 

THE  sun  had  passed  the  zenith  when  Dr.  Milyng 
crept  behind  the  pile  of  fallen  masonry  in  the 
ruin,  and  the  day  was  well  spent  before  the  "  big 
medicine  man"  of  that  band  of  Apaches  surrendered 
himself  to  his  log-like  slumber.  If  the  trapped  miner 
intended  to  get  out  of  his  cage  it  was  well  to  be 
moving  about  the  matter,  for  even  such  a  lethargy 
as  that  could  not  last  forever.  There  could  be  no 
danger  from  the  sleeper,  whatever  might  come  from 
his  roving  clansmen  outside. 

No  danger,  indeed,  but  the  doctor's  views  of  the 
situation  were  broader  than  that,  and  worthy  of  the 
sagacity  and  courage  which  had  carried  him  through 
unnumbered  perils  in  adventurous  days  gone  by. 

They  were  broad,  courageous  and  sagacious,  but 
their  morality  belonged  to  that  latitude  and  longi- 
tude, for  they  were  aboriginal  rather  than  Christian, 
at  least  in  theory. 

No  lawyer  in  the  settlements,  not  in  the  largest 


66  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

of  them,  could  have  relieved  a  client  of  his  estate 
with  greater  patience  and  skill  than  Dr.  Milyng  dis- 
played in  obtaining  possession  of  that  splendid  robe 
of  skins.  No  unmannerly  tugging,  but  the  little 
pulls  followed  one  another  as  gently  and  as  per- 
sistently as  fees  in  a  long  bill,  and  only  once  was  the 
sleeper  in  the  least  disturbed.  He  had  to  be,  a  little, 
towards  the  end,  but  it  did  not  wake  him  up.  Well 
for  him  it  did  not,  for  in  that  event  the  doctor 
would  have  been  compelled  to  use  the  long,  keen 
hunting-knife  which  he  drew  and  laid  beside  him 
when  he  began  his  operations.  It  would,  per- 
haps, have  been  easier  to  have  used  it  at  once, 
and  it  would  have  greatly  shortened  the  job, 
but  it  would  have  been  imprudent,  for  several 
reasons,  and,  after  all,  it  is  a  mean  thing  to  cut  the 
throat  of  a  sleeping  man  merely  to  steal  the  robe 
he  is  lying  on.  There  was  no  reason,  however,  why 
his  well-filled  cartridge  box  should  not  be  examined. 

"All  right,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Regulation  size. 
Just  what  I  want.  I'll  make  'em  last  me  to  Santa 
Fe.  Now  for  it.  It  covers  me  from  head  to  foot. 
Couldn't  be  better." 

Not,  certainly,  if  he  meant  to  conceal  himself  en- 
tirely, head  and  all,  with  his  sombrero  under  his  arm, 
and  his  various  valuables  stowed  around  him.  He 
was  simply  a  moving  column,  and  a  fat  one,  of  fur 
robe. 

At  the  entrance  he  avoided  disturbing  the  pair  of 


"UGH!"  67 

moccasins,  but  he  dropped  a  handful  of  gravel  in 
each  one  by  way  of  a  joke. 

"  They'll  never  dream  an  enemy  did  that,"  he  mut- 
tered, as  he  cast  loose  the  lariat  of  the  really  noble 
animal  that  stood  waiting  him.  "  I  could  hardly 
have  asked  for  a  better  horse,  but  I'll  try  for  a 
pack-pony.  I'll  need  one,  if  only  to  carry  meat 
for  me." 

Once  in  the  saddle  he  covered  himself  as  com- 
pletely as  before,  and  rode  slowly  away  in  the  di- 
rection opposite  the  Apache  encampment.  Such 
simple-minded  red  horsemen  as  he  met  were  well 
acquainted  with  that  peculiar  outfit,  and  never 
dreamed  of  asking  it  any  questions,  much  less  of 
interfering  with  its  freedom.  Whatever  mummery 
might  be  on  hand,  to  induce  their  Big  Medicine  to 
wear  furs  in  summer,  was  no  business  of  theirs,  and 
they  rode  by  in  naked  comfort,  like  sensible  savages. 

About  a  mile  from  the  ruins  the  doctor  met  a  little 
drove  of  ponies,  under  the  guidance  of  a  half-grown 
Indian  boy,  mounted  on  the  best  of  them. 

A  deep  growl  came  from  under  the  robe  as  a 
hand  reached  forth,  grasped  the  hide  lariat  of  that 
particular  pony,  and  vanished.  A  few  harsh  gut- 
turals followed,  which  might  have  been  interpreted  : 
"Get  off,  you  young  wolf," and  they  were  obeyed 
with  an  alacrity  which  spoke  well  for  the  religious 
training  of  the  stripling  horse-thief  who  heard  it. 
He  sprang  upon  another  at  once,  for  he  would  have 


68  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

scorned  walking  with  a  horse  at  hand,  but  it  did 
not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that  anything  unusual  had 
happened. 

As  for  Dr.  Milyng,  he  soon  began  to  quicken  his 
pace  now,  and  took  a  more  northerly  course.  There 
were  mountains  in  that  direction,  but  it  was  likely 
their  passes  were  not  unknown  to  him.  At  all  events 
he  meant  to  make  the  best  use  of  his  time  before  the 
former  owner  of  his  sultry  garment  should  awake 
from  his  prophetic  dreams.  Even  after  the  shadows 
lengthened  and  the  mists  began  to  gather  in  the 
lowlands,  he  steadily  pursued  his  way,  and  the 
darkness  itself  did  not  halt  him.  The  stars  and  the 
moon  were  light  enough  for  such  a  flight  as  his,  and 
he  had  ridden  both  fast  and  far  before  he  deemed 
it  prudent,  out  of  regard  for  his  quadrupeds  rather 
than  his  own  tough  and  tireless  frame,  to  find  a 
place  for  a  camp. 

"  No  fire,"  he  remarked,  "  but  they  must  feed.  I've 
a  bit  of  cold  meat  left.  To-morrow  I'll  do  some  more 
cooking.  But  this  has  been  the  biggest  kind  of  a 
day's  work.  If  I  can  throw  them  off  the  scent  I'll 
make  a  bee-line  for  Santa  Fe." 

Iron  nerves,  he  must  have  had,  to  be  able  to 
sleep  under  such  circumstances,  but  sleep  he  did, 
and  the  robe'of  skins  was  an  excellent  addition,  by 
way  of  comfort,  to  his  own  Navajo  blanket. 

Not  an  Apache  in  all  the  band  he  had  left  behind 
him,  but  would  have  awarded  the  most  unstinted 


"UGH!"  69 

admiration  to  such  a  feat  as  the  doctor  had  per- 
formed, if  he  could  have  known  how  it  was  done. 

But  that  was  the  precise  question  which  dis- 
turbed them,  a  little  after  sunset,  that  evening. 

The  interior  of  the  ruined  quadrangle  was  grow- 
ing more  than  a  little  dusky  when  the  Big  Medicine 
awoke.  He  might  have  slept  longer,  but  for  the 
unprotected  sharpness  with  which  some  of  the 
stony  fragments  under  him  worked  their  points 
and  edges  into  his  naked  flesh.  Changes  of  posi- 
tion did  him  no  manner  of  service,  and.  his  dreams 
were  of  a  character  which  threatened  woe  to  the 
entire  nation  of  the  Apaches. 

If  they  were  bad,  however,,  so  were  his  sensations 
on  awaking.  At  first  he  imagined  that  he  must 
have,  so  to  speak,  rolled  out  of  bed,  and  he  looked 
gropingly  around  for  his  precious  robe.  Many  a 
day  of  toil  had  his  own  squaws  and  those  of  lesser 
men  toiled  in  the  tanning  of  all  that  peltry,  and 
many  a  thoughtful  hour  had  he  exhausted  upon  its 
skilful  illumination.  Its  pictured  interior  had 
grown  into  a  sort  of  panorama  of  his  greatness. 
That  is,  of  his  own  opinion  of  his  mighty  deeds 
and  character.  It  was  dreadful  to  wake  up  from 
stony  visions  to  find  even  his  autobiography  gone 
from  under  him. 

But  it  was  gone.  •   And  where  ? 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  with  greater  agility  than 
could  have  been  expected  of  him,  and  the  exclama- 


70  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

tion  he  uttered  was  a  cross  between  a  grunt  and  a 
yell  which  testified  his  barbarism.  A  civilized  man 
would  have  sworn  at  or  by  something  sacred,  but 
that  privilege  was  as  yet  denied  the  untutored  high- 
priest  of  the  red  men. 

There  was  just  about  light  enough  left  by  which 
to  satisfy  himself  of  his  solitude,  as  well  as  of  his 
loss,  and  he  rushed  for  the  entrance. 

His   horse,  with  its  splendid  equipment,  where 
was  that  ? 

Gone  also.  But  there  were  his  moccasins,  point- 
ing their  toes  outward  on  the  threshold,  as  if  indicat- 
ing the  general  direction  taken  by  his  other  prop- 
erty. He  overlooked  the  vagueness  of  it,  and  hur- 
riedly pulled  on  one  of  them.  It  was  the  left  foot 
first,  which  is  always  unlucky,  for  he  instantly 
pulled  it  off  with  a  hoarse  "  ugh  !" 

Nothing  worse  than  gravel,  but  that  is  hardly  the 
correct  thing  in  shoes  of  any  pattern.  Even  if  he 
had  heard  of  the  pious  devotee  who  boiled  the  peas 
for  his  pilgrimage  of  penance,  it  would  have  done 
him  no  service.  No  amount  of  boiling  would  have 
softened  that  gravel. 

The  other  moccasin  was  gravely  examined  before 
putting  it  on. 

Somebody  had  been  trifling  with  his  dignity  and 
he  was  too  well  trained  a  savage  not  to  look  around 
at  once  for  "sign  !" 

Foot  prints  there  were,  in  abundance,  and  they 


"UGH!"  ji 

came  from  the  ruin,  but  they  were  those  of  a  man. 
No  mischievous  boy  had  ventured  to  play  this 
prank.  Curious  foot-prints  they  were.  Not  pre- 
cisely those  of  an  Apache,  but  just  as  unlike  any 
white  men's  feet  that  he  had  ever  seen.  The  toes 
did  not  turn  cut,  nor  did  the  manner  of  putting 
down  the  foot  betray  an  accustomed  boot-heel  and 
a  body-lifting  stride.  Dr.  Milyng  was  too  much  of 
an  Indian  in  his  habits  of  life  not  to  have  caught 
their  walk  to  a  certain  degree  of  perfection. 

It  was  a  very  interesting  study,  but  it  produced 
no  practical  results,  and  the  Big  Medicine's  temper 
was  rising  too  fast  and  too  hotly  for  calmly  scientific 
investigation. 

It  was  at  this  point,  too,  that  he  discovered  the 
lightness  of  his  cartridge-box. 

Why  had  not  his  carbine  also  been  taken? 

Perhaps  because  of  its  weight,  seeing  that  the 
removal  of  the  hammer-pin  of  the  lock  had  turned 
it  into  a  very  useless  kind  of  freight  for  any  man 
to  carry.  One  gun  was  all  the  doctor  had  thought 
he  would  need  on  that  trip,  but  the  Big  Medicine 
would  require  a  new  one — or  a  gunsmith. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  that  powerful  conjurer 
had  walked  so  fast  as  he  now  did,  on  his  way  to 
the  camp  of  his  brethren.  His  wrath  swelled 
within  him  as  he  went,  and  he  paid  no  attention  to 
the  inquiring  glances  cast  upon  him  by  chance 
braves  of  the  meaner  sort,  and  by  squaws  of  the 


72  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

older,  as  he  strode  along.  He  did  not  even  seek 
the  retirement  of  the  lodge  his  faithful  wives  had 
set  up  for  him,  but  plunged  at  once  into  the  aris- 
tocratic circle  where  a  dozen  chiefs,  distinguished 
in  field  and  council,  were  discussing  the  morrow's 
hunt. 

Rich  were  they  in  scalps  and  stolen  horses,  and 
the  Big  Medicine  himself  had  been  second  to 
none  of  them,  before  he  began  to  grow  fat  and 
gather  wisdom. 

With  fierce  gesticulations,  but  half-choked  with 
passion,  he  detailed  the  intolerable  practical  joke 
which  had  been  played  upon  him. 

It  is  an  odd  mistake,  a  musty  memory  of  the 
manners  of  the  vanished  Pequods  and  Iroquois,  to 
suppose  that  Indian  warriors  never  laugh.  When 
they  are  parading  their  pride  in  the  part  assigned 
them  in  that  ancient  comedy  known  as  "  Treaty," 
they  are  usually  as  solemn  as  owls,  but  it  is  to  be 
doubted  if  even  then  they  fail  to  see  and  enjoy  the 
fun  of  the  thing. 

There  in  their  own  camp,  at  all  events,  they  were 
quite  ready  to  take  up  the  joke  on  their  man  of  mys- 
tery, and  the  gravel  in  the  moccasins  nearly  cost 
one  grim  old  scalper  his  life. 

But  there  was  a  serious  side  to  it  all,  and  it 
quickly  turned  up,  for  more  than  one  of  the  increas- 
ing assembly  was  prepared  to  say  that  be  had  met 
the  conjurer,  that  very  afternoon,  wrapped  in  his 


-ucur  73 

own  great  robe,  and  riding  his  own  horse.  The 
boy,  too,  from  whom  the  pony  had  been  taken, 
came  incautiously  forward  with  his  contribution  to 
the  general  fund.  It  cost  him,  afterward,  a  pony's 
worth  of  lariat  end  at  the  hands  of  his  disconsolate 
father.  It  would  be  long  before  another  pony 
would  be  taken  from  under  that  same  boy. 

Of  course  there  was  an  immediate  adjournment 
to  the  ruin,  but  it  was  too  dark  now  to  look  for 
signs,  or  to  follow  a  trail,  and  all  that  could  be  done 
was  to  study  thoroughly  all  the  points  they  had  in 
hand,  and  to  make  ready  a  dozen  of  their  best- 
mounted  men  for  an  early  start  in  the  morning. 

It  was  remarkable  with  what  unanimous  sagacity 
the  dusky  investigators  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  "  a  white  man  has  done  this."  No  hostile  sav- 
age would  have  been  contented  with  horse  and 
robe,  when  a  scalp  also  lay  ready  for  the  taking. 
They  knew  that  by  their  own  feelings. 

"  Want  hoss,  want  robe.  No  want  scalp.  No 
hurt.  Good.  Like  him  much.  Big  chief,  any- 
how." 

Dr.  Milyng's  conduct  was  therefore  more  thor- 
oughly appreciated  than  he  had  thought  or  cared. 
It  is  even  possible  that  a  friendly  feeling  mingled 
with  the  general  admiration.  But  not  in  the  dis- 
gusted soul  of  the  Big  Medicine.  Even  his  squaws 
required  beating,  that  night,  for  the  unseemly  levity 
of  their  behavior  towards  their  lord  and  master. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BEATEN  BY  MORE  DEVILS  THAN  ONE. 

FRED  HERON  was  not  to  sleep  in  the  open 
air,  that  night. 

On  coming  out  of  Mr.  Brown's  gate  he  felt  no 
desire  to  sleep  at  all  or  anywhere.  Not  only  was 
all  his  mind  in  a  tumult  of  excited  wakefulness  over 
the  events  of  the  day  and  evening,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  there  were  two  lives  within  him,  be- 
tween which  a  fierce  struggle  for  mastery  had  been 
provoked.  He  had  felt  that  way  before,  and  many 
a  time,  and  the  recurring  strife  had  been  of  ever-in- 
creasing severity,  but  never  had  it  risen  to  its  pres- 
ent height  and  bitterness.  The  influence  of  his 
poor  "three  grains"  had  been  worked  off  by  his 
severe  exercise  of  mind  and  body,  and  had  left  be- 
hind it  an  augmented  hunger  of  that  gnawing  pain 
which  does  not  come  to  human  beings  in  any  otner 
way. 

With  the  narcotic,  too,  disappeared  the  side  of 
74 


MORE  DE  VILS  THAN  ONE.  75 

his  character  which  had  been  uppermost  for  the 
past  few  hours.  Drugs  create  nothing.  They  only 
call  out  this  or  that  or  the  other  set  of  faculties  in  un- 
due relation, or  without  any  relation,  to  other  faculties 
and  developments.  These,  then,  the  stimulus  aba- 
ting, sink  out  of  sight  fatigued,  and  leave  yet  others 
in  undue  and  unwholesome  prominence  for  the 
time  being.  Insanity  of  any  kind  has  a  somewhat 
similar  analysis.  And  yet  Fred  Heron  was  not  in- 
sane. He  had  those  other  three  grains  in  his  pocket, 
but  he  touched  them  not.  Not  even  when  the  tu- 
mult and  tearing  within  him  grew  to  a  great  and 
exceeding  bitter  conflict. 

There  were  endless  successions,  too,  on  the  street 
corners  he  was  passing,  of  those  places  where  the 
other  great  poison  is  sold,  but  he  entered  them  not, 
although  he  had  in  his  pocket  the  wherewithal  to 
buy  oblivion. 

"  Strange,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  began  with  this 
thing  to  save  myself  from  suffering.  I  did  but  accu- 
mulate pain,  putting  it  safely  at  usury,  to  be  paid  me 
now,  both  principal  and  interest.  What  an  awful  div- 
idend it  is,  to  be  sure.  An  honest  debtor  is  pain,  and 
it  will  surely  pay.  I  wonder  if  hell  is  anything  like 
this?  We  won't  have  our  bodies,  there.  Not  these 
bodies.  But  then  it  is  not  my  body  that  is  suffering. 
Take  the  soul  out  and  the  body  would  be  quiet 
enough.  Quiet  as  that  yellow  dog  with  his  unex- 
pected  supper.  Things  that  come  to  us  in  that  sudden 


76  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

way  are  very  apt  to  have  poison  in  them:  I've  tried  it. 
Made  a  tramp  of  me.  But  then  about  hell.  I 
think  I  know  how  it  feels,  just  now.  I  can  reason 
about  it,  too.  It  isn't  this  gnawing  I  want  to  be 
rid  of,  but  the  cause  of  it,  so  it  won't  come  again, 
forever  and  ever.  I  want  a  complete  salvation.  I 
wouldn't  give  a  cent  to  be  saved  from  hell.  Some- 
how I  don't  appreciate  it  very  highly,  after  what 
I've  been  through." 

He  had  wandered  from  the  street,  just  then,  into 
an  open  square,  thickly  strewn  with  grand  old 
shade  trees.  The  skies  had  clouded  rapidlv,  as  if 
for  rain,  and  the  gloom  was  intense,  for  there  were 
no  lamps,  away  in  there.  He  had  stopped  under  a 
great  elm,  and  was  looking  upward. 

There  came  a  flash  of  lightning  that  played 
through  the  branches  and  over  his  face.  A  pale, 
working,  suffering  face,  full  of  pain,  and  of  a  great 
longing. 

"  No,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  I  would  not  give  a 
brass  farthing  for  a  salvation  that  only  saves  from 
hell.  I  want  to  be  saved  from  sin !" 

Was  the  lightning  the  outward  form  of  a 
thought  ? 

Perhaps,  but  as  it  passed,  and  the  utter  darkness 
came  again,  deeper  than  before,  his  head  sank  upon 
his  breast  and  he  muttered : 

"Is  that  it?  Emmanuel?  I  read  that  once. 
Does  anybody  believe  it,  nowadays?  It's  true, 


MOKE  DE  VILS  THA N  ONE.  j  j 

though.  I  can  feel  it.  Or  else  there  is  no  God. 
And  if  there  were  no  God  there  could  not  be  any 
hell.  The  one  implies  the  other,  so  long  as  a  man 
is  able  to  ask  a  question  about  it.  It  is  ail  getting 
dim  again." 

The  dimness  of  suffering.  The  darkness  after 
the  flash.  Strange  contradiction  there  is  in  human 
nature,  for  now  Fred  Heron  took  out  the  little  box 
and  swallowed  the  other  three  pills,  and  then  he 
went  straight  to  the  nearest  corner  for  a  half  turn- 

o 

bier  full  of  whisky  to  wash  them  down  and  increase 
their  effect. 

Was  that  a  breaking  off  ?  Or  was  it  a  breaking 
down  ? 

Would  it  ever  be  well  to  shut  up  such  men  at 
such  a  time,  till  the  last  struggle  is  over?  It  is  a 
hard  question  to  answer,  but  Fred  had  been  making 
a  magnificent  fight,  after  all. 

He  turned  now  towards  the  leading  thorough- 
fares, which  were  already  beginning  to  be  some- 
what deserted.  The  gnawing  pain  was  gone,  and  in 
its  place  was  coming  a  strong  elation,  a  combative, 
heroic  energy,  such  as  made  him  feel  sure  that  he 
should  yet  come  off  victor,  and  more  than  victor, 
over  all  his  evil  circumstances. 

"  Moses  himself  had  a  rough  time  of  it,  at  first, 
after  he  smote  that  Egyptian,'*  he  was  saying,  as  he 
plunged  into  the  greater  privacy  of  a  somewhat  dis- 
reputable cross  street,  but  at  that  moment  his  quick- 


*7g  THE  HEART  OF  JT. 

ened  senses  were  assailed  by  the  sound  of  blows 
and  curses. 

"  Get  up.    Get  up,  I  tell  you  ;  come  along  with  me." 

The  prostrate  form  of  a  man,  a  not  very  well- 
dressed  one,  was  on  the  sidewalk,  and  over  him  bent 
one  of  the  uniformed  guardians  of  the  peace,  whose 
business  it  is  to  keep  the  streets  clear  of  fallen  men. 

The  blows  of  the  locust  were  heavy,  and  were  rap- 
idly repeated,  with  small  care  as  to  where  they  fell. 

"  Stop,  there.  What  are  you  striking  that  man 
for?  Don't  you  see  he  can't  get  up?" 

The  policeman  was  silent  for  a  moment,  with  the 
very  wonder  of  it,  but  he  permitted  no  such  inva- 
sion of  his  rights,  and  the  bitter  profanity  of  his  re- 
ply to  Fred  Heron  was  accompanied  by  a  vicious 
whack  on  the  head  of  his  victim. 

In  another  instant  his  arm  was  seized  by  what 
seemed  a  grasp  of  steel. 

"Don't  you-  strike  him  again." 

The  locust  changed  hands,  and  an  alarm  rap  was 
made  on  the  pavement  .before  any  attempt  to  use  it 
on  Fred. 

That  followed,  of  course,  but  it  was  of  no  man- 
ner of  effect.  The  excited  young  man,  naturally 
athletic,  seemed  to  be  endowed  with  the  strength 
of  Antaeus  for  the  moment.  The  policeman  could 
neither  strike  nor  escape. 

Not  so  the  roundsman,  who  quickly  came  to 
his  assistance,  and  the  last  thing  Fred  saw,  for 


MORE  DEVILS  THAN  ONE. 


79 


the  next  half-hour,  was  a  sudden  shower  of  stars. 

A  locust  club  is  a  terrible  weapon  in  a  strong 
hand,  accustomed  to  its  use,  and  that  roundsman 
had  had  years  and  years  of  practice. 

When  Fred  came  to  himself  he  was  in  darkness, 
relieved  only  by  a  faint  glimmer  through  a  grating 
at  about  the  height  of  his  own  head  from  the  ground. 

He  was  in  a  cell  at  the  station-house,  and  in  the 
hands  of  the  police. 

His  head  felt  badly,  and  he  discovered  that  it  had 
been  washed  and  bandaged.  There  was  something 
odd  in  that,  but  he  was  unaware  of  the  fact  that  a 
surgeon  had  been  in  the  office  when  he  and  the 
other  man  were  brought  in,  on  stretchers,  and  that  a 
good  deal  of  a  fuss,  a  ridiculous  fuss,  had  been  made 
by  the  man  of  science.  It  had  been  of  no  use  to 
tell  him  the  first  case  had  been  drunk  and  disorderly, 
for  he  had  curtly  said  : 

u  Epilepsy.  Beaten  horribly.  The  man  will  die. 
Even  if  he'd  been  well  and  drunk  it  would  have  been 
outrageous.  This  other  man  has  a  bad  scalp  wound." 

"  He  resisted  the  policeman." 

"  Bully  for  him.  Wish  he'd  shot  him.  Looks 
like  a  respectable  party." 

"  Tremendously  powerful." 

"  Nonsense.  A  man  of  very  ordinary  strength. 
Could  handle  him  myself,  without  clubbing.  Cow- 
ardly outrage.  I  shall  report  it  to  the  Board  in  the 
morning," 


80  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

He  did  what  he  could,  but  he  had  not  been  long 
on  the  force,  that  surgeon,  and  he  knew  very  little 
of  the  ways  in  which  unpleasant  facts  will  slip  out 
from  under  impertinent  fingers.  By  the  time  his 
complaint  was  ready,  on  the  morrow,  the  dying 
epileptic  had  disappeared  among  the  small-pox 
cases,  and  was  beyond  his  jurisdiction,  while  Mr. 
John  Rogers,  as  poor  Fred  gave  his  name,  not 
wishing  to  sully  his  real  one  by  appearing  in  the 
police  returns,  had  been  sent  to  "  the  Island,"  for 
sixty  days,  for  disorderly  conduct.  Why  he  got  no 
more  was  a  problem  which  the  police  justice  was 
angrily  called  upon  to  explain,  and  which  he  solved 
for  his  uniformed  inquirer  with: 

"  Nonsense.  Don't  you  s'pose  I  understand  it? 
The  clubbing  was  punishment  enough  for  all  he 
did,  anyhow.  I  only  sent  him  over  to  oblige  you. 
He  isn't  the  kind  of  man  that  fights  the  police.  He 
wasn't  even  drunk.  You're  carrying  this  thing  too 
far,  anyhow,  nowadays.  The  people  may  go  back 
on  you,  the  first  you  know.  They  would,  now,  if  it 
wasn't  for  the  good  they  know  of  some  of  you,  and 
the  bad  they  don't  know  of  the  rest." 

A  rough  man  was  the  justice,  and  he  wanted  to 
be  popular  with  "  the  boys,"  but  he  had  some  dim 
notions  of  right  and  wrong,  and  of  what  was  the 
wise  policy  to  pursue  with  a  club.  He  knew  there 
was  a  possibility  of  overdoing  the  most  humane  and 
necessary  public  service. 


MORE  DE  VILS  THAN  ONE.  g  I 

And  so  Fred  Heron  did  not  spend  that  night  in  the 
open  air,  but  the  cell  he  lay  in  contained  no  hindrances 
to  thought.  Even  the  burning  thirst  which  consumed 
him,  and  for  which  no  relief  was  to  be  had,  brought 
with  it  a  copious  fund  of  pertinent  suggestion. 

"  Well,"  he  muttered,  "  if  Abraham  wouldn't  send 
Lazarus,  it's  no  use  for  me  to  ask  favors  of  one  of 
these  fellows.  I'll  just  bear  it.  Dives  had  to.  But 
then  he  got  in  by  a  different  way  from  the  one  I 
took  to-night.  Would  I  do  it  again?  I  would. 
Every  time.  Now  I  like  that.  I'm  glad  it's  in  me. 
It's  a  good  sign.  Wonder  if  that  other  man  was 
dead.  Maybe  he'd  been  eating  the  wrong  kind  of 
meat.  Adam  and  Eve  did — that  is,  apples.  If 
there  ever  was  any  Adam,  or  any  Eve,  or  any  ap- 
ples. Mr.  Darwin  suggests  monkeys  and  cocoanuts. 
Wrell,  some  of  us  have  got  beyond  the  monkey  level, 
and  some  haven't.  Or  if  they  have  they're  sorry  for 
it,  and  are  selecting  themselves  back  again.  That's 
a  strong  argument  for  Darwin.  If  I  had  my  way 
v/ith  that  policeman  for  awhile,  I  think  I  would 
reduce  him  to  his  original  jelly.  Think  of  a  proto- 
plasm  in  a  blue  uniform." 

Perhaps  Fred's  brain 'was  getting  a  little  flighty, 
and  if  it  was  no  one  could  wonder,  seeing  what  it 
had  undergone  that  day,  and  before  that  day,  not 
to  speak  of  the  concussion  of  its  retaining  shell 
against  the  hard  and  heavy  "  locust"  to  wind  up 
with. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PRACTICAL  LESSON  ON  THE  VALUE  OF  INSTITU- 
TIONS. 

THAT  was  an  uneasy  night  for  Mr.  Brown's  cfog 
Prince. 

He  had  fully  comprehended  that  he  did  not  un- 
derstand the  situation,  and  had  thereby  surpassed  the 
intellectual  achievements  of  many  a  modern  states- 
man. 

There  had  been  the  smell  of  meat  on  the  gravel- 
walk,  where  no  meat  was,  or  should  have  been. 
There,  too,  had  been  the  strange  man  in  the  horse- 
chestnut,  where  he  had  never  before  seen  a  human 
being  at  that  time  of  night.  All  the  subsequent  per- 
formances, even  to  the  departure  unbitten  of  the 
suspicious  stranger,  had  been  of  a  nature  to  disturb 
the  canine  mind,  and  Prince  felt  himself  called  upon 
for  an  unusual  degree  of  watchfulness. 

For  that  very  reason,  perhaps,  he  stoutly  adhered 
to   the  neighborhood   of  the  front  gate,  when    he 
would  have  been  in  a  fairer  road  to  usefulness  in  the 
rear  of  the  house. 
82 


FENCES  AND  THEIR  USES.  £3 

For  it  was  only  a  little  after  one  o'clock  when  the 
lonely  streets  of  that  aristocratic  and  therefore 
thinly-peopled  neighborhood  were  favored  with  an- 
other presence  than  that  of  the  police. 

A  double  presence,  of  two  men,  between  whom 
neither  the  artist  nor  the  moralist  could  have  found 
much  to  choose,  so  perfectly  could  either  one  of 
them  have  sat  for  the  portrait  of  a  vagabond. 

At  one  corner  they  paused  for  a  moment. 

"  Dead  dog,  Bill." 

"  Eat  somethin'  didn't  agree  with  him,  most 
likely." 

"  Guess  he  ain't  the  only  one  in  this  'ere  vicinity. 
It's  a  bad  night  for  dogs." 

"  Wust  kind.  Hain't  seen  a  sign  of  a  cop,  not 
yet." 

"  Sleep,  somewheres,  most  likely.  No  need  o' 
givin'  them  chaps  any  buttons." 

"  Not  much,  thar  ain't.  Now,  Bill,  we  mustn't 
hurt  anybody,  not  if  we  kin  help  it." 

"Of  course  not.  They  don't  foller  it  up  so  close 
when  nobody's  hurt,  unless  the  swag's  big  enough 
to  set  the  'tectives  at  work." 

"And  then  they  won't  settle  the  hash  at  all,  if  any 
harm's  done.  Still,  I  don't  mean  to  be  imposed  on." 

"Nor  I,  nuther.  All  they've  got  to  do  is  to  lie 
still  and  let  us  fellows  take  what  belongs  to  us." 

"  That's  all.  Thar'll  be  a  gineral  divide,  some  day, 
you  see  'f  thar  ain't." 


84  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  I'll  be  thar,  my  boy.  But  I  want  part  of  my 
sheer  now.  Let's  cut  for  the  back  street.  No  dog 
this  time." 

"  You  bet.    But  he  was  an  all-fired  big  one,  he  was." 

They  passed  the  front  gate,  but  Prince  was  at  that 
moment  looking  up  into  the  chestnut  tree,  and  he 
was  much  too  dignified  a  dog  to  bark  at  chance  pas- 
sengers who  seemed  to  be  minding  their  own  busi- 
ness. 

City  dogs  learn  in  time  that  a  contrary  course  in- 
volves much  useless  labor,  if  not  a  peril  of  bronchial 
difficulties. 

A  similar  course  of  reasoning  may  account  for  the 
continued  silence  of  some  city  pulpits  concerning  the 
every  day  current  of  evil  of  which  they  make  no 
mention. 

Prince  could  afford  to  wait,  like  other  guardians 
of  the  sleeping,  until  his  own  particular  fences  were 
assailed. 

He  did,  at  least,  and  so,  a  good  deal  like  the 
others,  his  fences  were  scaled  for  him  before  he  had 
the  slightest  notion  of  coming  danger. 

Over  the  fence,  with  noiseless  feet,  and  swift, 
crouching,  watchful  advances,  until  the  two  invaders 
were  standing  under  the  bay  window  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  library  wing,  right  across  from  the  win- 
dow in  which  Mabel  Varick  had  appeared  to  Fred 
Heron.  She  was  in  her  own  room,  now,  dreaming 
wild,  fairy-land  dreams,  of  mountains  of  gold  and 


FENCES  AND  THEIR  USES.  85 

silver,  while  her  uncle  was  rolling  uneasily  from  side 
to  side  on  his  solitary  couch,  in  the  room  adjoin- 
ing, trying  vainly  to  drive  from  his  heated  brain 
the  distorted  remnants  of  his  conversation  with  that 
remarkable  tramp. 

"A  terribly  keen  thinker.  I  never  met  a  man 
whose  talk  disturbed  me  so.  Can  the  lower  classes 
really  be  moved  to  any  depth  by  the  ideas  he  pre- 
sented? If  so,  it  is  high  time  something  should  be 
done  to  counteract  it.  And  yet,  mere  repression 
won't  do.  Might  as  well  pile  weights  on  a  safety- 
valve.  Only  make  a  bigger  explosion  by-and-by. 
Blow  things  all  to  smithereens.  Wealth  has  its 
duties,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  shrink  from  mine.  But 
has  religion  no  power?  Of  course  not,  unless  it  is 
put  in  operation.  How  much  religion  filters  down 
among  these  fellows,  and  what  sort  of  stuff  is  it  by 
the  time  it  gets  to  them?  I'd  like  to  know  that.  I 
got  a  glimpse  of  it,  to-night.  He  thinks  our  church- 
work  is  a  species  of  humbug,  and  so  it  is,  a  good 
deal  of  it.  Religious  clubs,  he  called  them,  and  so 
they  are.  I  must  carry  out  my  plans,,  but  it  will 
take  a  perfect  mountain  of  gold  to  do  it.  Then  I 
must  get  my  mountain,  first.  I  wish  I  knew  where 
I  could  find  Dr.  Milyng.  Hark,  was  that  a  noise 
inside  the  house?  Can't  be,  or  I'd  have  heard  from 
Prince  before  this." 

The  noise  was  inside  the  house,  nevertheless,  for 
it  was  made  by  the  breaking  of  a  small  brass  bolt,  a 


86  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

filagree  affair,  on  one  of  the  frames  of  the  mosquito- 
net  at  the  library  window. 

The  noise  was  inside,  but  that  was  all,  as  yet,  for 
one  man  stood  braced  against  the  wall  of  the  house, 
with  out-stretched  hands,  while  his  companion  stood 
on  his  shoulders  and  pried  skilfully  at  the  frail  bar- 
rier before  him. 

But  an  unusual  sound  travels  further  by  night  than 
by  day,  and  that  sharp  little  snap  had  reached  other 
ears  than  those  of  Mr.  Brown. 

Prince  heard  it,  as  he  turned  away  from  his  horse- 
chestnut  tree,  and  it  seemed  to  make  another  dog  of 
him  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  If  he  had  seemed, 
for  the  time  being,  over  given  to  contemplation  and 
inclined  to  study  things  hopelessly  above  him,  in 
imitation  of  ordinary  human  folly,  he  was  now  once 
more  a  watch-dog,  and  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  get 
around  the  house. 

The  window  was  open  by  the  time  he  got  there, 
and  the  uppermost  burglar  was  withdrawing  his 
stockingless  feet  from  the  shoulders  of  his  pedestal. 

Not  the  sound  of  anything  breaking,  this  time,  un- 
less it  was  the  silence,  but  a  sharp,  irrepressible  yell  of 
pain,  such  as  rises  from  the  lips  of  a  man  in  whose 
rear  the  fangs  of  a  large  and  pitiless  dog  are  sinking. 

"Bill,  is  that  the  dog?" 

Only  another  yell,  with  verbal  expressions  to 
match. 

"Then  the  job  is  busted  !" 


FENCES  AND  THEIR  USES.  87 

He  alighted  on  the  grass  as  he  spoke,  and  his  duty 
was  to  have  made  an  immediate  assault  on  Prince. 

There  is  one  difficulty,  however,  with  all  organi- 
zations whose  only  cohesive  power  is  the  hope  of 
plunder. 

Realize  the  hope,  and  they  are  disintegrated  by 
the  sure  quarrel  over  the  spoils.  Take  it  away,  and 
the  moral  corpses  remove  themselves  in  all  direc- 
tions according  to  their  instincts  and  interests. 

Both  the  instincts  and  interests  of  .that  burglar 
forbade  his  lingering  longer  in  Mr.  Brown's  back- 
yard, and  he  sprang  away  for  the  fence. 

Alas  for  him ! 

The  fence  was  there,  and  so  was  a  stalwart  man,  in 
blue  uniform,  with  a  locust  club  in  one  hand  and  a 
revolver  in  the  other,  and  a  perfect  willingness  of 
mind  to  make  use  of  both  or  either. 

The  agility  of  the  fugitive  was  proved  by  the  vault- 
ing spring  with  which  he  cleared  the  fence,  and  the 
efficiency  of  the  policeman  by  the  vigor  with  which 
the  locust  was  plied  the  moment  the  fence  was  cleared. 

"  I  give  in  !     I  give  in  !" 

"You  better  had.  Here,  put  these  on.  Hands 
behind  your  back,  now." 

No  help  for  it,  and  the  moment  the  handcuffs  were 
sprung  it  was  safe  to  tie  them  to  the  fence  and  rush 
to  the  assistance  of  Prince. 

Not  that  he  needed  help  half  so  much  as  Bill  did, 
for  that  worthy  was  now  flat  on  the  ground,  and  the 


88  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

double-barrelled  gun  of  Mr.  Brown  was  bearing  on 
him  from  the  window. 

It  was  of  small  consequence  that  there  was  no 
cartridge  in  either  barrel  of  the  gun,  for  Prince  was 
"  loaded  to  the  muzzle,"  and  especially  well  at  the 
muzzle. 

"  Call  him  off,  Mr.  Brown.  I'll  take  that  chap  in 
charge  and  rap  for  assistance.  There  isn't  any  fight 
in  him,  I  guess." 

No,  not  a  bit,  but  there  was  a  good  deal  in  Prince, 
and  it  required  all  the  authority  of  his  master,  most 
vigorously  exerted,  to  overcome  what  Fred  Heron 
might  have  called  the  dog's  innate  tendency  to 
animal  food. 

The  rights  of  property  had  been  fully  vindicated, 
and  communism  pure  and  simple  had  suffered  a 
most  ignominious  defeat.  So  it  always  will  when  it 
comes  to  the  front  otherwise  than  under  cover  of 
the  forms  of  law.  When  it  succeeds  in  doing  that, 
it  will  have  the  dogs  and  other  public  servants  on 
its  side,  and  there  is  no  telling  what  it  may  put  them 
up  to. 

But  the  policeman's  rap  was  speedily  answered, 
for  notice  had  been  given  of  a  possible  need,  and 
the  two  nocturnal  adventurers  were  speedily  as  safe 
from  doing  any  further  mischief,  that  night,  as  was 
poor  Fred  Heron  himself. 

Neither  one  of  them  would  be  compelled  to  sleep 
in  the  open  air,  but  whatever  slumber  was  taken  by 


FENCES  AND  THEIR  USES.  $£ 

the  man  named  Bill  did  not  come  to  him  while  he 
was  lying  on  his  back. 

And  Prince  himself  passed  his  time  till  morning 
in  a  stately  promenade  from  the  back  window  to  the 
horse-chestnut  tree,  as  if  he  in  some  mysterious  man- 
ner connected  them  in  his  mental  analysis  of  the 
events  which  had  upset  him. 

He  was  not  the  only  member  of  that  household 
who  could  be  fairly  said  to  be  upset.  Every  closet 
was  looked  into  and  every  barrel  in  cellar  and  garret 
was  looked  behind,  and  every  bed  was  looked  under, 
before  Mr.  Brown  felt  justified  in  turning  to  his 
niece  to  say,  "  Well,  Mabel,  we  owe  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  that  Mr.  Heron.  If  he  had  not  saved  Prince, 
as  he  did,  those  fellows  could  have  walked  right  in." 

"They  might  have  murdered  us  all !" 

"Well,  I  had  my  shot-gun" — 

"  O  uncle  Daniel,  you  will  not  leave  it  loaded  ?" 

"  No,  dear,  I'll  remove  the  cartridges  at  once. 
They  can  be  replaced  in  a  moment  if  there  should 
be  any  necessity.  I  left  it  on  the  library  table." 

All  the  gas-jets  in  the  house  were  in  a  blaze,  and  it 
was  safe  to  go  anywhere  after  so  thorough  an  inves- 
tigation. The  deep  voice  of  Prince  in  the  front 
yard  was  itself  a  magnificent  guaranty  that  peace 
reigned  to  the  very  frontiers. 

But  Mr.  Brown  examined  his  weapon  somewhat 
anxiously  when  he  took  it  in  his  hand. 

An  elegant  piece,  of  the  best  and  latest  pattern, 


gO  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

and  its  owner  had  tested  it  on  snipe  the  previous 
season.  In  capital  order,  too,  not  a  spring  or  a 
screw  out  of  place,  and  it  was  really  a  weapon  to 
charm  the  eye  of  an  amateur  sportsman. 

"  I  declare,  if  I  didn't  forget  to  load  it !  Why,  it 
wouldn't  have  gone  off  if  I'd  have  pulled  the  trigger 
all  night !" 

No  more  it  would,  and  Mr.  Brown  had  a  splendid 
chance  to  go  to  bed  and  moralize  on  the  uselessness 
of  brilliant  institutions  with  no  powder  and  ball  in 
them.  He  put  the  gun  away,  looked  very  carefully 
to  the  fastenings  of  all  his  doors  and  windows,  sent  an 
encouraging  whistle  to  Prince,  for  which  a  most  loyal 
wag  of  the  tail  was  duly  returned,  and  then  retired 
once  more  to  his  lonely  reveries,  not  slumbers. 

If  Mrs.  Brown  had  been  alive,  what  a  lesson  he 
might  have  secured  on  the  comparative  usefulness 
of  good  dogs  and  empty  guns  !  But  then  he  thought 
the  subject  up,  for  himself. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  DANGER  OF  BELIEVING  IN  A  LIE. 

WHAT  between  eating  and  sleeping,  Oliver 
passed  as  comfortable  a  day  as  an  overworked 
mule  could  well  have  asked  for,  in  that  country,  but 
he  would  have  been  glad  of  either  more  or  less  com- 
pany when  night  began  to  fall.  Less,  if  he  could 
have  had  his  own  way,  and  more  if  he  could  have 
had  his  choice,  for  the  coyotes  had  speedily  over- 
come their  annoyance  over  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  persisted  in  following  his  motions,  go  where 
he  would  and  do  whatever  he  might. 

Their  numbers,  moreover,  had  been  reinforced,  and 
they  were  beginning  to  exhibit  a  degree  of  cautious 
familiarity  which  worried  him,  while  they  avoided 
taking  up  any  position  which  offered  an  opening,  or 
the  smallest  portion  of  a  wolf,  for  the  exercise  of  his 
peculiar  talents.  They  were  beginning  to  under- 
stand mule  better  than  they  did  at  first,  and  they 
were  content  to  wait  for  such  opportunities  as  the 
future  might  bring  them. 


92  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

There  was  an  increasing  unpleasantness  about  it, 
and  Oliver  hesitated  about  selecting  a  night's  lodg- 
ing for  himself  so  long  as  his  couch  might  be  sur- 
rounded in  such  a  manner  as  that.  The  darkness, 
he  knew,  belonged  to  his  enemies,  and  they  would 
have  a  degree  of  courage  in  it  which  sunlight  de- 
prived them  of.  It  was  best,  therefore,  to  keep  in 
motion,  and  he  was  better  prepared  for  such  exer- 
tion than  he  had  been  a  few  hours  before. 

The  night  was  not  a  dark  one,  and,  as  the  beleag- 
uered mule  marched  warily  on  from  one  roll  of  grass 
to  another,  annoyed  by  an  occasional  yelp,  and  even 
a  castanet-like  snap  of  hungry  jaws,  he  saw,  at  no 
great  distance  in  front  of  him,  a  huge,  ungainly 
shape,  looming  up  in  the  gloom. 

Anything  for  company  and  a  possibility  of  help. 

A  sharp  trot,  and  Oliver  was.no  longer  alone,  but 
he  might  almost  as  well  have  been.  If  he  had  been 
besieged,  the  stranger  was  beset. 

A  mighty  fellow,  too,  with  the  strength  of  a  nation 
of  prairie  wolves  yet  remaining  in  him,  for  he  was  a 
buffalo  bull  of  the  largest  size.  Not  even  enfeebled 
by  age,  and  yet — 

Yes,  that  was  it,  the  arrows. 

Three  of  them  were  sticking  in  his  flanks,  and  the 
life  was  slowly  ebbing  from  his  huge  bulk  as  he  tot- 
tered over  the  plain. 

He  had  made  his  last  fight,  his  last  run,  and  there 
was  no  help  for  Oliver  in  him. 


BELIE  VI NG  IN  A  LIE.  g^ 

It  looked  so,  indeed,  for  the  vicious  miscreants 
had  already  assailed  his  hind  quarters,  from  time  to 
time,  in  efforts  to  further  cripple  him,  and  his  foes 
were  more  numerous  than  Oliver's  own. 

His  weapons  of  defence  were  all  in  front,  as  com- 
pletely as  the  mule's  were  at  the  opposite  extremity 
of  his  organization,  and  the  very  shape  and  garni- 
ture of  his  massive  shoujders  made  it  difficult  to 
properly  watch  and  guard  his  rear.  A  proper  com- 
bination of  two  such  forces  as  his  and  Oliver's  might 
have  done  well,  but  generalship  would  have  been 
required  for  that,  and  the  world  knows  how  rare  a 
thing  is  a  good  general.  So  rare  that  it  often  takes 
years  of  war  to  find  him.  He  is  then  discovered 
by  the  light  of  other  men's  defeats,  and  neither 
Oliver  nor  the  bull  enjoyed  any  such  precious 
privileges. 

The  bull  had  one  comfort,  just  one,  as  Oliver  drew 
near,  and  his  own  followers  dashed  suddenly  forward 
to  ascertain  if  their  neighbors  were  doing  better 
than  themselves.  In  the  rush  and  confusion  of  the 
moment  a  luckless  coyote  was  jostled  within  reach- 
ing distance  of  the  disabled  monarch  of  the  herd. 

A  sickly  lurch,  a  quick  lowering  and  lifting  of  the 
furiously  angry  head — who  would  have  thought  such 
electric  motion  was  in  that  massive  neck. 

But  how  high  that  prowling  rascal  did  go! 

The  horn  went  through  him — there  was  comfort 
in  that — but  it  had  no  barb  to  detain  him,  and  up  he 


94  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

went,  as  if  the  bull  had  put  his  last  despairing  en. 
ergy  into  the  cast. 

He  fell  in  the  grass  a  score  of  yards  behind  his 
destroyer,  but  the  latter  sank  forward  on  his  knees 
with  a  low,  thunderous,  suffocating  bellow. 

There  is  no  earthly  thing  from  which  other  earthly 
things  retire  to  a  safer  distance  than  the  deathbed 
of  fallen  greatness,  and  Oliver  did  not  linger  a  mo- 
ment after  he  saw  the  bull  go  down.  He  trotted 
as  if  for  his  life,  without  so  much  as  looking  behind 
him,  cutting  a  dismayed  bray  of  his  own  short  off 
in  the  middle. 

But  the  coyotes  of  either  pack? 

Well,  a  few  of  them  hesitated  and  cantered  doubt- 
fully after  Oliver  for  a  short  distance,  but  the  politi- 
cal economy  of  the  case  was  too  plain  for  even  a 
congressman  to  have  erred  in  making  it  out.  A  bull 
in  the  hand  was  worth  two  mules  in  the  bush,  and 
so  they  all  stayed  to  get  their  share  of  the  coming 
feast.  What  they  might  do  or  think  of  doing,  after- 
wards, was  quite  another  matter,  but  here  was  a 
great  and  rich  corporation  already  on  its  knees,  and 
they  were  just  the  lawyers  to  foreclose  those  three 
arrowy  mortgages.  The  only  drawback  was  that 
they  would,  after  all,  be  compelled  to  leave  the  rails 
and  roadway — that  is,  to  speak  less  figuratively,  the 
skeleton — to  whiten  on  the  ground,  after  the  meat 
should  be  picked  off.  A  pity,  when  there  might  be 
such  toothsome  marrow  in  those  bones,  if  it  could 


BELIE  VI NG  IN  A  LIE.  95 

but  be  got  at.  They  would  have  to  leave  all  that 
to  the  ants. 

But  Oliver  had  done  very  well,  considering,  and 
it  was  not  his  fault  that  he  was  less  attractive  than 
a  dying  buffalo.  He  cculd  now  march  on,  after  he 
tired  of  running,  until  he  found  another  thicket  of 
willows  and  could  obtain  therein  both  safety,  and, 
what  all  travellers  call  for,  "  a  room  to  himself." 

It  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  Oliver  troubled 
himself  much  about  the  fortunes  of  the  master  who 
had  so  completely  deserted  and  forgotten  him.  and 
Dr.  Milyng  had  quite  enough  to  think  of,  that 
night,  without  recurring  to  the  mule  he  left  behind 
him. 

The  spot  he  had  chosen  for  his  camp  was  at  the 
foot  of  a  long,  outlying  spur  of  a  chain  of  moun- 
tains which  arose  to  the  north  and  east  of  him,  and 
it  was  so  deeply  buried  in  a  wooded  ravine  that  an 
army  might  have  marched  past  it,  that  night,  and 
never  guessed  that  it  contained  a  camp. 

With  the  earliest  light  of  returning  day  the  doc- 
tor was  on  his  feet,  but  his  first  attentions  were  paid 
to  the  wants  of  his  quadruped  friends,  rather  than 
his  own.  They  could  hardly  ever  before  have 
known  such  thorough  grooming.  He  evidently 
knew  well  the  secret  of  making  a  horse  hold  out  on 
a  long  journey,  and  the  one  before  him  was  likely 
to  test  to  the  uttermost  the  capacity  of  his  two 
prizes. 


C)6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Prizes  they  were,  and  he  remarked  concerning  trie 
first: 

"  Wonder  where  they  stole  him  ?  He  never  was 
foaled  in  any  Indian  corral.  Not  an  army  horse, 
either  ;  isn't  branded.  Must  have  come  from  the  set- 
tlements. Fine  fellow.  Worth  a  dozen  ponies. 
And  yet  that  pony's  a  good  one.  Don't  look  as  if 
he'd  been  overworked.  If  I'd  have  had  my  pick  of  the 
camp  I  could  hardly  have  done  better.  That's  just 
what  he  had,  I  reckon.  The  old  impostor.  Wonder 
what  he  said  when  he  woke  up.  They'll  be  after 
me,  sure,  but  I'm  more  afraid  of  what  I  may  meet 
than  of  anything  behind  me.  If  I  can  clear  the 
passes,  there  won't  be  so  much  difficulty,  but  it's  a 
long  road  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a  thirsty  one.  I  must 
lay  in  some  meat  before  I  strike  the  alkali  plains. 
Pity  I've  nothing  to  tote  water  in." 

He  gave  his  beasts  a  hearty  breakfast,  so  far  as 
grass  would  go,  for  they  were  not  likely  to  feed 
again,  that  day,  and  then  he  set  out  at  a  singularly 
steady  pace,  for  a  man  on  whose  trail  the  Apache 
horsemen  might  even  then  be  racing.  A  wary  mail 
was  he,  and  could  calculate  to  a  fraction  how  much 
of  speed  would  be  left  in  Indian  ponies  after  long 
spurring  in  a  hot  sun. 

He  kept  the  lowlands  for  a  few  miles,  keenly 
studying  the  changing  outlines  of  the  neighboring 
knobs  and  ridges,  until  at  last  he  halted  at  the  side 
of  what  looked  like  a  beaten  path. 


BELIE  VING  IN  A  LIE.  QJ 

And  how  could  that  be,  in  such  a  wilderness, 
where  the  feet  which  came  and  went  must  be  so  few 
and  far  between  ? 

Feet  of  men,  of  horses,  yes,  but  what  about  other 
feet?  Buffalo,  for  instance?  Did  their  mighty 
multitudes  never  find  their  way  from  one  slope  of 
the  ranges  to  another? 

Assuredly,  and  their  innumerable,  endless  tramp- 
ings,  year  by  year,  had  worn  and  beaten  that  nar- 
row, hard,  and  at  some  points  deeply  sunken  path, 
and  had,  at  the  same  time,  pointed  -out  for  all  fu- 
ture travellers  the  place  where  any  other  animal, 
biped  or  quadruped,  could  find  a  pass  over  the 
mountains. 

Could  they  not  have  gone  around  that  long  spur, 
away  there  to  the  South  ? 

A  long  detour,  cafions  and  chasms  beyond,  a  river 
beyond  that,  not  always  fordable  and  always  dan- 
gerous, lay  in  that  direction,  and  so  the  four-footed 
engineers  had  led  their  followers  by  a  better  and 
surer  way.  Trust  them  for  that.  The  doctor  knew 
enough  to  do  so,  and  he  struck  into  the  buffalo  path 
with  a  feeling  of  absolute  certainty  of  the  result. 

No  theologian,  following  the  familiar  rut  of  an 
ancient  doctrine,  could  have  been  more  complacently 
devoid  of  doubt  as  to  the  security  of  the  road  be- 
fore him,  however  threateningly  the  opposing  heights 
might  seem  to  rise  on  either  hand. 

"  Where  they've  tramped  it  we  can  follow  "  he 


C)8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

cheerily  exclaimed, "  and  I'll  see  if  I  can't  find  a 
place  where  I  can  set  up  a  stop-thief  behind  me. 
There  must  be  more  than  one  narrow  track  and 
sharp  corner  before  we  get  onto  the  other  slope." 

No  wonder  he  travelled  leisurely,  with  such  an  idea 
in  his  head.  But  then  he  was  no  novice  in  moun- 
tain ways  and  warfare,  and  there  was  no  law  com- 
pelling him  to  leave  that  natural  highway  as  passa- 
ble as  he  found  it. 

It  might  have  been  as  well,  however,  if  he  could 
have  known  just  how  long  it  had  been  since  the  last 
drove  of  buffaloes  had  plodded  along  that  steep  and 
winding  ascent,  and  what  had  been  the  then  condi- 
tion of  the  track,  and  what  the  end  of  their  journey. 

That  was  one  of  the  things  he  was  to  learn,  before 
the  day  was  over. 

There  were  places  as  he  rode  along  where  distances 
might  have  been  saved  by  shorter  cuts,  but  there 
is  no  haste  in  the  migration  of  a  herd  of  bisons,  and 
their  trail  followed  natural  curves  and  easy  grades 
as  accurately  as  a  railway  survey. 

It  would  not  do  to  risk  possible  loss  of  time  in  un- 
certain efforts  to  improve  on  their  guidance,  and  the 
doctor  steadily  plodded  on,  now  and  then  halting 
to  breathe  his  horse  and  take  a  look  behind  him. 

He  could  Command,  from  one  elevation  after  an- 
other, unobstructed  views  of  a  good  deal  of  the 
ground  he  had  passed  over,  and,  for  a  couple  of 
hours  all  his  observations  seemed  to  be  encouraging. 


BELIE  VING  IN  A  LIE. 


99 


"  They  may  have  struck  it,  but  they  can't  be  very 
close,"  he  said  to  himself,  after  one  long  and  careful 
scrutiny.  "  If  they'll  give  me  two  or  three  hours 
more  I  won't  care  whether  they  follow  or  not. 
Hullo!  What's  that?  The  Apaches?  And  that 
close  to  me?  They've  done  it.  Well,  it's  as  hard 
climbing  for  them  as  for  me,  and  the  pass  is  getting 
narrower,  every  reach  we  make.  But  I  must  push 
along." 

The  pass  was  indeed  growing  narrower,  winding 
along  the  side  of  a  treeless  mass  of  granite,  which 
rose  for  a  thousand  feet  above  him,  in  rugged  grand- 
eur, with  a  broken  declivity  below  of  almost  equal 
depth,  except  where  here  and  there  some  natural 
rift  of  the  ledges  led  the  trail  between  walls  of  rock 
on  either  hand, 

In  more  than  one  of  these  latter  the  doctor  paused 
a  moment,  as  if  studying  its  capacity  for  purposes  of 
obstruction,  but  each  time  he  hurried  on  again,  to 
seek  a  gap  of  better  promise. 

It  was  not  likely  that  he  would  have  to  climb 
much  higher,  but  he  had  no  doubt  that  his  pursuers 
had  been  gaining  on  him.  If  so,  to  be  sure,  it  must 
be  at  the  expense  of  their  ponies'  wind,  while  his 
own  animals  showed  as  yet  scarcely  any  tokens  of 
fatigue. 

A  man*of  iron  nerve  and  imperturbable  coolness, 
was  the  doctor,  and  he  needed  all  his  steadiness  of 
head  and  hand  for  the  frightful  path  upon  which  he 


100  THE  HEAR  7'  OF  IT. 

was  now  entering.  So  nearly  perpendicular  fell  the 
sheer  descent  at  his  right,_  so  narrow  was  the  foot- 
hold between  that  sure  destruction  and  the  beetling 
cliff  at  his  left.  The  Alps,  the  Appenines,  our  own 
Sierras,  have  many  such  giddy  tracks  to  show,  and 
the  wonder  is  that  human  hearts  can  find  the  will 
to  go  over  them  with  any  less  powerful  incentive 
than  death  to  drive. 

The  buffalo  herds  had  made  the  passage,  however, 
time  out  of  mind,  and  therefore  it  must  be  safe. 

But  what  about  that  last  herd  ? 

The  doctor  had  just  turned  the  corner  of  a  pro- 
jecting rock  when  he  drew  his  rein  with  almost  dan- 
gerous quickness,  and  his  good  horse  stood  still, 
shivering,  and  with  the  cold  sweat  streaming  from 
his  flanks. 

The  path  was  gone ! 

Some  mighty  mass,  set  free  by  frost  and  sun,  had 
fallen  from  above  and  broken  away  at  a  blow  not 
less  than  thirty  feet  in  length  of  the  narrow  ledge. 

The  doctor  looked  dizzily  down,  and  there,  among 
the  shattered  fragments  at  the  bottom  of  the  preci- 
pice at  his  right,  he  could  discern,  heaped  in  white 
and  bleaching  confusion,  uncounted  bones  and  horns, 
as  if  all  the  bisons  of  the  plains  had  come  thither  to 
die. 

Not  all  of  them,  indeed,  but  vast  must  have  been 
the  numbers  of  the  last  drove  which  had  tried  that 
pass.  And  they  had  marched  on  in  single  file,  each 


BELIE  VING  IN  A  LIE.  I  Q  I 

pressing  closely  on  the  Heels  of  the  brute  before 
him,  till  they  reached  that  fatal  gap. 

There  could  then  be  neither  pause  nor  retreat, 
with  the  blind  instinct  of  their  nature  urging  them 
slowly  on,  and  so  the  foremost  bulls,  the  patriarchs 
of  the  plains,  had  gone  bellowing  down,  and  after 
them  had  been  crowded  their  stupid  followers,  like 
human  beings  believing  in  a  lie,  till  the  last  bison  of 
the  drove  found  himself  unable  to  turn  around  on 
the  narrow  ledge.  And  he  had  stood  and  bellowed 
and  pawed  and  trembled  over  the  failure  of  his  faith, 
till  the  faintness  of  starvation  came  upon  him,  and 
he  too  toppled  helplessly  over  the  remorseless  edge. 

There  was  not  even  room  to  dismount,  apparently, 
and  the  doctor  could  already  hear  the  whoops  and 
yells  of  the  foremost  Apache  warriors,  as  they  urged 
their  wearied  and  dripping  ponies  forward  up  the 
pass  behind  him. 

In  a  few  minutes,  now,  they  would  be  upon  him. 

But  what  of  that,  when  there  could  be  as  little 
return  for  them  as  for  him  from  the  awful  trap  whose 
jaws  had  received  the  horned  multitude  before  them  ? 

"The  golden  heart,"  he  said,  mournfully.  "The 
golden  heart  of  the  continent." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  NEW  DEPARTURE. 

^HERE  was  a  great  deal  of  good  in  Bessie 

J-      Heron. 

There  always  is  in  young  women  of  that  cast  of 
mind,  although  it  may  seem  to  develop  itself  ab- 
normally. 

She  had,  among  other  excellent  traits,  that  rever- 
ence for  the  "  correct"  which  is  sure  to  work  out  in 
a  sense  of  order,  a  rigid  orthodoxy,  and  a  commenda- 
ble degree  of  personal  neatness. 

She  would  have  made  a  methodical  and  scrupu- 
lous housekeeper,  it  may  be,  but  an  unkind  fate  had 
denied  her  that  field,  and  so  she  kept  the  narrow 
domain  of  her  own  wardrobe  in  a  state  of  organized 
precision  which  admitted  of  almost  an  instantaneous 
change  of  base. 

If  Fred  could  have  had  his  own  way,  the  collection 

would  have  possessed   more  bulk  and  variety,  and 

with  it  less  celerity  of  mobilization.     As  it  was,  no 

default   of    her  preparations  prevented    her  being 

1 02 


A  NEW DEPAR TURE.  \ 03 

ready  in  ample  time  for  the  train  which  was  to  take 
her  west,  on  the  day  following  the  receipt  of  her 
supplies. 

She  was  a  good  sister,  too,  as  all  good  women  are, 
and  she  labored  hard  to  find  excuses,  to  Mrs.  Baird 
and  her  husband,  for  Fred's  non-appearance,  at  the 
house  or  the  railway  depot,  to  see  her  off. 

Her  apologies  were  necessarily  conjectural,  and 
were  received  as  such,  but  it  was  impossible  that 
they  should  all  be  complimentary  to  Fred,  and  for 
that  very  reason  Bessie  was  fully  entitled  to  the 
flood  of  tears  with  which  she  said  good-bye  to  her 
kindly  host  and  hostess. 

It  was  too  bad  that  they  should  have  any  reason 
for  unpleasant  surmises  concerning  her  brother,  but 
it  was  all  his  fault  and  not  hers. 

What  would  either  of  them  have  thought  had 
they  known  that  the  scapegrace  was  even  then  on 
his  way  to  "  the  Island,"  with  a  broken  head,  after 
a  collision  with  the  police? 

As  it  was,  when  the.  conductor  shouted  "all 
aboard,"  the  train  moved  on  with  its  precious  freight, 
and  the  wonder  concerning  Fred  was  fairly  divided. 

"A  very  excellent  young  woman,"  remarked  Mr. 
Baird,  as  he  gave  his  arm  to  his  wife,  and  turned 
away.  «  But  she  is  a  good  deal  tried." 

"  So  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Baird,  a  trifle  sharply,  "  but 
what  do  you  know  about  it  ?" 

"  Why,  her  brother-^-" 


104  THE  HEART  °F  IT- 

"  Mr.  Baird,  I  wish  you  would  hunt  him  up.  He 
sent  her  some  money.  I'd  like  to  know  what  there 
is  against  him." 

"  Why,  of  course  you  could  not  expect  her  to  tell." 

"  No,  indeed  I  couldn't,  that's  a  fact.  I  don't 
know  as  it's  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  to  con- 
fess the  sins  of  other  people,  though.  Will  you  try 
and  find  him?" 

"  Find  a  needle  in  a  haystack,  my  dear.  Where 
am  I  to  look  for  him  ?" 

"  She  might  have  given  me  some  address  or  other. 
I'll  hunt  up  all  I  know  and  put  it  together.  You 
might  get  the  police  to  help  you." 

"  He'd  hardly  thank  me  for  that.  If  I  knew  some 
of  his  friends — " 

"  There's  his  brother.  He  must  know  something. 
Only  I  don't  believe  he  knows  much.  He  never 
sent  his  sister  'any  money,  that  I  know  of.  Too 
good,  I  suppose." 

"  Now,  my  dear,  I  must  say  you  are  making  re- 
marks." 

"So  I  am.  What  do  men  know  about  women? 
Not  but  what  I  admire  Miss  Heron,  but  then  I'd 
like  to  know  what  to  think.  It's  too  bad  to  be  left 
in  the  dark,  imagining  all  sorts  of  awful  things,  when 
they  may  not  be  just." 

''Well,  my  dear,  I'll  hunt  him  up,  or  try  to.  It 
ought  not  to  be  impossible.  By  the  way,  there's 
one  of  the  Tiloogoo  missionaries — " 


A  NEW DEPAR TURE.  IO5 

"  Coming  to  board  with  us  for  awhile?  Well,  I'm 
almost  glad  of  it.  I'd  like  to  see  somebody  that 
has  done  something,  or  tried  to  do  it." 

"  O  he's  never  been  there,  but  he's  going  in  a  few 
weeks." 

"  That's  all  the  same.  He  means  to  try  and  do 
something.  I'll  give  him  the  room  Miss  Heron 
had.  It's  as  neat  as  wax,  I'll  say  that  for  her.  She 
hasn't  a  fault  in  the  world.  I  almost  wish  she 
had." 

And  so  it  was  settled  that  Fred  Heron  was  to  be 
hunted  for,  but  the  chances  of  success  were  even 
poorer  than  good  Mr.  Baird  himself  imagined,  and 
his  faith  would  not  have  balanced  the  tiniest  dwarf 
of  a  young  mustard-seed. 

And  ail  the  while  Bessie,  poor  girl,  was  carried 
further  and  further  from  her  brothers,  and  from  one 
great  army  of  her  friends,  and  her  crying-spell  lasted 
her  a  long  time. 

She  was  exceedingly  lonely,  and  she  could  but 
wonder  why  she  had  been  Singled  out  from  the 
great  world  of  human  beings  for  a  fate  so  hard  and 
uncongenial. 

So  many  good  things  came  to  others,  on  the 
right  hand  and  on  the  left;  homes,  husbands,  in- 
comes, influence,  friends,  good  brothers,  wealth ; 
while  to  her,  without  a  single  fault  or  error  on  her 
part,  had  been  drifted  only  the  dry  and  tasteless 
sand  of  an  unsupported  existence. 


1 06  THE  HE  A  RT  OF  IT. 

Such  a  text  that  was  which  came  to  comfort  her, 
and  when  she  came  to  the  clause  :  "  Of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy,"  she  said  it  aloud,  and  the 
smile  on  her  face  was  one  which  would  have  done 
Mrs.  Baird  good — if  not  Mrs.  Boyce. 

The  latter  lady,  at  that  moment,  was  not  think- 
ing of  anybody's  goodness,  no,  nor  badness,  but  of 
how  provoking  it  was  that  Mr.  Brown  should  have 
been  compelled  to  go  down  town  so  much  earlier 
than  usual,  that  morning. 

Mabel  Varick  had  been  exceedingly  glad  to  see 
Mrs.  Boyce,  and  to  tell  her  all  about  the  burglars. 
The  library  window  had  been  exhibited,  with  the 
broken  bolt,  and  so  had  Mr.  Brown's  double-bar- 
relled gun. 

Prince  himself  had  been  called  in  for  commenda- 
tion, and  when  he  yawned,  probably  from  the  effects 
of  a  sleepless  night,  he  displayed  such  a  sharklike 
range  of  teeth  that  Mrs.  Boyce  found  her  sympathies 
rapidly  going  over  to  the  side  of  the  man  he  had 
used  them  on. 

"  How  he  must  have  suffered !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  replied  Mabel.  "  He  isn't  hurt  at 
all.  But  they  tried  to  poison  him,  and  they'd  have 
succeeded,  but  for  a  gentleman  who  saw  them. 
Such  a  strange  man." 

"  I  didn't  mean  Prince — " 

"  Nor  did  I.  He  said  he  was  a  tramp,  but  Uncle 
Daniel  says  he  is  a  gentleman  of  unusually  good 


A  NE  W  DEPAR  TURE.  I  Q/ 

mind  and  education.  His  name  is  Heron.  At 
least  he  said  so." 

"What,  the  burglar?" 

"  No,  there  were  two  of  them,  and  we  did  not 
get  their  names.  Uncle  Daniel  went  down  to  the 
police  court  to  appear  against  them.  He  will  go 
from  there  to  his  office.  He  is  almost  excited 
about  it,  and  that,  you  know,  is  a  rare  thing  for 
him." 

"  Dear  man !  He  is  so  cool  and  collected,  al- 
ways. Such  admirable  judgment.  I  value  his  ad- 
vice above  that  of  any  other  friend  I  have.  I  need 
it,  to-day,  too,  my  dear." 

"  He  will  be  glad  to  give  it,  I  know.  But,  Mrs. 
Boyce,  how  dare  you  live  alone,  the  way  you  do,  in 
that  great  house.  Think  of  such  men  as  came  here 
last  night.  You  have  not  even  a  dog." 

"  I've  never  thought  of  such  things,  my  dear. 
Burglars  are  not  the  worst  misfortunes  that  can 
come.  But  I  must  go,  now.  By  the  way,  what  did 
you  say  his  name  was?" 

"Whose  name?" 

"The  man  that  poisoned  Prince." 

"  O  you  mean  the  gentleman  tramp  who  took 
the  meat  away  from  him.  Heron,  Mrs.  Boyce, 
and  Prince  drove  him  up  a  tree,  and  uncle  found 
him  there,  and  asked  him  in.  It's  a  funny  story, 
but  I  mustn't  keep  you  now.  I'm  afraid  it  '11  be 
days  and  days  before  I  feel  like  myself  again." 


IO8  THE  HEART  OF  IT-. 

Mrs.  Boyce  could  have  sympathized  more  com- 
pletely than  she  cared  to  tell,  before  seeing  Mr. 
Brown  himself,  and  she  cut  short  her  call  with  the 
kindly  haste  which  is  allowable  in  an  older  person 
and  an  intimate  friend  of  the  family.  She  had  al- 
ways been  especially  sweet  on  Mabel  Varick,  and 
Mabel  in  turn  had  learned  to  consider  her  a  very 
lovable  woman. 

"  So  little  understood  by  those  who  call  her 
worldly." 

Mr.  Brown  himself  had  passed  a  morning  of  more 
than  a  little  annoyance.  If  there  was  one  thing  he 
disliked  more  than  another,  it  was  newspaper  noto- 
riety, and  here  he  was,  now,  with  a  dead  certainty  of 
being  published  in  connection  with  a  "  criminal 
sensation." 

He  did  his  duty  by  the  two  prisoners,  however, 
and  they  were  both  bound  over  for  trial,  being 
locked  up  in  default  of  bail,  and  their  coming  sen- 
tence was  likely  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  matter  of 
form.  Even  the  man  who  entered  the  window 
could  be  so  easily  identified.  He  had  upon  him  no 
marks  of  having  been  arrested  by  Prince. 

It  was  on  his  way  down  town  that  the  thoughts 
of  the  worthy  merchant  returned  to  the -man  to 
whom  he  deemed  himself  in  great  measure  indebted 
for  the  safety  of  his  household,  and  he  grew  decid- 
edly anxious,  as  he  turned  the  matter  over,  for  an- 
other meeting  with  his  eccentric  benefactor. 


A  NE  W  DEPAR  TURE.  1 09 

"  I  wonder  if  he  will  call  to-day?  I  hope  he  will. 
There's  something  worth  saving  in  that  man.  I'm 
sure  there  is." 

A  remark  which  implied  that,  in  the  respect  indi- 
cated, Mr.  Frederick  Heron  was  a  species  of  ex- 
ception. A  piece  of  heathenism  very  prevalent 
among  the  most  orthodox,  and  it  is  mainly  caused 
by  exceeding  vaguerie-ss  of  idea  as  to  what  "saving" 
consists  in.  A  pity,  too,  when  one's  cursory  judg- 
ment may  so  readily  err  in  an  estimate  of  the  rela- 
tive value  of  souls.  Precious  stones  will  at  times 
deceive  experts,  let  alone  the  common  run  of  deal- 
ers, and  a  soul — 

Well,  no  man  can  tell  how  a  soul  will  turn  out, 
until  it  has  been  cut  and  ground  and  mounted,  and 
even  then  it  has  to  be  shown  in  a  good  light.  That 
of  heaven,  for  instance,  or  a  time  of  trial. 

But  whether  or  not  Fred  was  one  of  the  excep- 
tional cases  "worth  saving,"  he  did  not  make  his 
appearance  at  Daniel  Brown's  office  that  day. 

There  were  plenty  of  others  who  did,  however, 
and  among  them  was  a  very  brisk  and  smiling  gen- 
tleman, with  a  diamond  pin  and  a  confidentially 
husky  voice.  He  did  not  interrupt  anybody  else, 
for  he  blandly  waited  some  minutes  in  the  main 
office,  until  his  opportunity  arrived  for  a  solitary 
approach. 

He  did  not  see,  therefore,  the  slight  shade  of  an- 
noyance on  the  merchant's  face  when  his  card  was 


I  IQ  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

laid  on  the  desk  in  the  little  private  business  parlor. 
If  he  had  seen  it,  it  is  likely  he  would  have  opened 
his  budget  in  precisely  the  same  tone  of  confident 
expectation. 

"Your  usual  contribution,  of  course?"  he  said, 
after  a  brief  exchange  of  preliminaries.  "We  must 
begin  early.  Our  foes  are  already  in  the  field.  A 
sharp  campaign  before  us,  I  assure  you.  We  must 
do  our  best,  or  the  state  and  the  nation  will  fall  into 
the  hands  of  those — " 

"But,  Mr.  Magrath,  what  are"  we  to  divide  on,  this 
time?  What's  to  be  the  platform?" 

"Platform,  Mr.  Brown?"  exclaimed  the  distin- 
guished political  manager,  with  astonishment  rising 
in  his  rosy  face.  "Platform?  Why,  sir,  we  shall 
adhere  to  our  time-honored  and  fundamental  princi- 
ples, without  wavering  or  quavering.  Every  plank — 

"  But,  Mr.  Magrath,  what's  the  difference  between 
the  two  platforms?  Ours  and  the  other?  I've  read 
them  both,  and  I  can't  see." 

"Difference,  sir?  The  difference?  Why, sir,  it's 
the  difference  between  the  two  parties,  sir.  Between 
fraud,  treachery,  corruption,  false  doctrine,  on  the 
one  side,  and,  on  the  other — ' 

"  I  know  what's  on  the  other,  Mr.  Magrath.  At 
least,  before  election.  But  how  is  it  that  we  divide 
up  differently  after  election,  say  in  Congress,  from 
what  we  do  at  the  polls?  I'm  beginning  to  feel  as 
if  I  wanted  to  think  matters  over  a  little." 


A  NE  W  DEPAR  TURE.  1 1 1 

"You  would  not  have  us  abandon  our  magnificent 
historic  organization  ?  You  would  not  withdraw 
your  support?" 

"By  no  means,  Mr.  Magrath,  a  good  body  is  a 
splendid  thing,  but  how  about  the  soul  of  it?  I've 
a  new  idea  at  work  in  my  head,  and  I  hardly  feel 
like  paying  out  much  money  till  I  get  it  clear." 

"  Your  contribution  will  be  delayed,  for  the  present, 
Mr.  Brown?" 

"  I  think  it  will—" 

At  that  moment  a  card  was  laid  before  him  and 
he  remarked : 

"  Ah — indeed  ! — a  lady,  Mr.  Magrath.  You  will 
have  to  excuse  me.  Not  many  lady  visitors,  you 
know,  and  even  politics  must  give  them  precedence." 

"  O  by  all  means.  Certainly,  I'd  never, — of  course, 
Mr.  Brown.  But  then  I  must  call  again  and  ex- 
plain matters.  We  really  have  the  salvation  of  the 
country — ' 

"Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Magrath,  it  needs  a  terrific  amount 
of  saving,  just  now.  Never  needed  more.  Good- 
morning." 

And,  as  the  discomfitted  "wheel  horse"  of  a  great 
party  bowed  himself  out  of  the  merchant's  parlor- 
ofrice,  another  door  opened,  and  an  attentive  clerk 
bowed  in  the  exquisitely  lady-like  presence  of  the 
widow  Boyce,  with  a  smile  on  her  face  which  grew 
more  and  more  sad  and  confiding  as  she  stepped 
forward. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  REMARKABLE  HUNT  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT. 

A  PRIME  necessity  of  the  case  which  the  med- 
dlesome police-surgeon  had    threatened   to  re- 
port was  that  the  two  offenders   should  be  gotten 
out  of  the  way. 

The  battered  epileptic,  consigned  to  the  security 
of  Potter's  Field  by  way  of  the  small-pox  hospital, 
would  make  no  audible  complaint  sooner  than  the 
Day  of  Judgment.  His  treatment  had  been  based 
upon  the  prevailing  official  notion  that  either  no 
such  day  is  coming,  or  that  the  leading  witnesses 
will  not  then  put  in  an  appearance.  False  teaching 
and  superstition  have  put  so  indefinitely  far  away 
among  doctrinal  uncertainties  an  ordeal  which  is 
really  so  close  at  hand  for  every  one  of  us.  It  is  so 
hard  for  a  man  with  a  free  club  in  his  hand,  and 
cruelty  in  his  heart,  to  understand  that  the  domain 
of  time  does  not  at  all  lap  over  into  that  of  eternity, 
and  that  the  narrow  rules  of  the  less  do  not  control 
the  operations  of  the  greater.  What  awful  sur- 


A  VERY  REMARKABLE  HUNT.  113 

prises  must  come,  occasionally,  to  men  who  pound 
epileptics,  and  to  some  other  kinds  of  men  ! 

As  for  the  man  Rogers,  he  was  well  satisfied  not 
to  be  known  as  "  Fred  Heron,"  when  he  was 
marched  out  of  the  police  court,  that  morning.  He 
shuddered  as  he  entered  the  Black  Maria,  as  the 
prison-van  is  called  by  those  who  know  its  name,  but 
his  emotion  was  misunderstood  by  the  policeman  who 
had  just  been  saying  something  to  him.  It  was  not 
so  much  fear  as  disgust,  and,  after  he  had  taken  his 
place  among  the  horrible  collection  of  human  wrecks 
within,  he  muttered  to  himself: 

"  Worse  will  come  to  me,  eh,  if  I  make  any  more 
noise  after  I  get  out?  Then  I'm  afraid  worse  will 
have  to  come.  That  is,  if  I  live  through  it.  My  head 
must  be  a  pretty  hard  one,  but  it  feels  as  if  there 
was  a  mill  in  it,  just  now." 

The  receiving  authorities  of  the  "Island"  were  by 
no  means  neglectful  of  their  duties,  and  Fred  went, 
therefore,  to  a  cot  in  the  hospital,  on  his  arrival. 
It  was  quite  the  customary  thing  with  fresh  con- 
signments of  disturbers  of  the  peace,  but  it  was  the 
best  that  could  have  come  to  Fred,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. It  relieved  him  of  a  part,  at  least,  of 
the  unpleasant  rigors  of  the  place. 

Sunlight,  fresh  air,  silence,  and  a  decent  place  to 
lie  down  and  go  crazy. 

That  was  about  all  the  prisoner  could  have  asked 
for,  that  morning,  and  before  long  his  delirium,  aided 


1 14  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

by  the  remaining  effects  of  those  last  three  grains,  and 
the  blow  on  his  head,  sent  him  into  a  deep,  troubled, 
dreamy  lethargy,  in  which  there  was  hidden  enough 
of  the  healing  medicine  called  sleep  to  do  him  a 
world  of  good. 

There  must  have  been  an  unusual  degree  of  re- 
cuperative toughness  in  that  much-abused  organiza- 
tion of  his. 

The  hospital  surgeon,  going  his  rounds  among  his 
over-numerous  patients,  looked  down  on  him,  felt 
his  pulse,  examined  his  heart,  and  said  to  the  nurse  : 

"  Let  him  sleep.  It's  the  best  he  can  do.  I'll  see 
him  again,  to-morrow  or  next  day." 

A  deal  is  necessarily  left  to  nature  in  a  great  hos- 
pital, but  she  is  a  better  physician  in  some  disorders 
than  she  is  in  others.  She  would  do  all  the  better 
for  a  little  help,  sometimes.  But  Fred  slept  on,  un- 
disturbed, for  hour  after  hour,  and  when  at  last  he 
awoke,  there  was  a  strange  looking  man,  of  middle 
stature,  standing  beside  him. 

Long  haired,  with  a  pinched,  pale  face,  and  a  seedy 
coat  of  an  old-fashioned,  semi-clerical  cut,  there  Was 
an  expression  in  his  watery  blue  eyes  which  partook 
oddly  of  both  benevolence  and  anxiety. 

"  Poor  fellow.  They'll  do  you  good.  Take  them. 
Here,  I'll  cut  one  in  two.  Eat  it  right  away." 

A  withered  little  pair  of  hands  had  been  fumbling 
in  his  coat-tail  pockets  till  they  came  out  with  three 
lemons. 


A  VERY  REMARKABLE  HUNT.  \\^ 

The  sunlight  from  the  window  fell  on  the  yellow 
fruit,  and  seemed  to  invest  it  with  a  kind  of  halo  in 
the  half-dazed  eyes  of  Fred  JHferon,  alias  Rogers. 

The  cutting  was  quickly  done,  at  the  cost  o£ 
dropping  one  lemon  on  the  bed,  and  another  on  the 
floor,  and  while  the  stranger  scrambled  for  the  lat- 
ter, Fred  squeezed  the  sharp,  delicious  juice  into 
his  burning,  foul-tasting  mouth. 

O  how  good  it  was,  and  how  evident  the  purpose 
for  which  lemons  had  been  created  ! 

But  Fred  was  not  indulging  in  that  kind  of  specu- 
lation just  then. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.      "  Do  you  belong  here?" 

"Yes,  I  belong  anywhere.  Don't  I  know  how  you 
feel?  I've  been  there.  You  was  pretty  bad?  I'm 
almost  glad  of  that.  Tasted  good,  eh  ?" 

"  Wonderful.  But  what  brings  you  here,  with 
your  lemons,  if  you  don't  regularly  belong  here?" 

"  Hunting,  my  dear  fellow.  Hunting— that's 
all.  I  do  it  for  pay,  and  I  may  not  get  it,  after  all." 

"  Guess  I  can  pay  for  three  lemons,  unless  they've 
picked  my  pockets,"  remarked  the  puzzled  patient. 

"  Not  from  you,  my  dear  fellow,  not  from  you.  I 
run  my  own  risk.  I'd  like  to  give  a  cup  of  cold  water, 
or  a  lemon,  or  something,  to  one  of  Christ's  little 
ones.  There  must  be  some  of  'em  left,  somewhere, 
and  I  hunt  for  'em  in  the  hospitals  and  all  over." 

"You've  missed  it,  this  time,"  said  Fred,  half- 
mournfully.  "  I'm  not  a  little  one,  and  I  don't  be- 


j  X6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

long  to  Him.  You'd  better  take  back  these  other 
lemons.  Try  some  of  the  rest." 

"  I  have.  I  begged  a  box  of  'em  yesterday,  and 
these  are  the  last.  No,  you  keep  'em.  His  little 
ones  are  born  so  very  small  they  don't  always  know 
it.  I  wouldn't  say  about  you.  I  run  my  risk.  Keep 
those  and  eat  'em  by-and-by.  He  made  'em.  Did 
you  ever  see  Him?" 

"  See  whom?" 

"I  mean  Christ.  Did  you  ever  see  Him?  I  did, 
once." 

"  And  he  told  you  to  carry  some  lemons  to  folks 
in  hospitals?  It  sounds  like  what  I've  heard  about 
Him.  I  can  think  of  Him,  just  now,  with  all  His 
pockets  full  of  lemons." 

"  Can  you  ?  Then  I  may  have  hit  it,  this  time. 
If  ever  you  meet  Him,  tell  him  I  did  it  in  His  name, 
will  you  ?  There,  I  must  go  now,  or  I  may  lose 
my  reward.  I'm  getting  self-righteous  every  min- 
ute. Good-morning." 

And  the  strange  man  hurried  away,  just  as  Fred 
was  trying  to  gather  his  wits  and  ask: 

"But  where  shall  I  find  Him?" 

Perhaps  the  stranger  could  not  have  given  very 
intelligent  directions,  but  it  looked  as  if  he  were  on 
or  near  the  right  track,  himself. 

Fred  ate  the  other  half  of  the  lemon,  put  the 
two  that  were  left  under  his  pillow,  and  then  arose 
with  more  of  strength  than  he  had  expected,  and 


A  VERY  REMARKABLE  HUNT. 

sat  on  the  side  of  his  bed,  looking  around  on  the 
great  room  and  its  occupants. 

Plenty  of  them,  all  males,  and  in  every  stage  of 
physical  disability,  but  what  struck  Fred  was  the 
very  good  order  and  general  neatness,  while  there 
was  such  a  seeming  dearth  of  attendance.  It  al- 
most looked  as  if  the  hospital  was  running  itself. 
Perhaps  he  did  not  dwell  with  sufficient  force  on 
the  fact  that  people  who  cannot  get  up  are  rarely 
disposed  to  create  any  disturbance,  and  that  this 
.  was  about  the  quietest  ward  of  all. 

He  did  not  know  that,  but  in  a  few  minutes  he 
arose,  with  no  man  to  hinder,  and  walked  to  one  of 
the  windows.  He  could  see  other  buildings,  and 
he  knew  enough  of  the  locality  to  bring  to  his 
mind's  eye  a  picture  of  all  he  could  not  see. 

"  Prisons,  hospitals,  almshouses,  insane  asylums, 
workhouses,  a  great  piece  of  property  like  this,  and 
cords  of  others.  Police,  soldiers,  courts,  lawyers, 
detectives,  charities,  Black  Marias,  a  gallows,  now 
and  then.  What  an  enormous  tax  it  all  is.  A 
perfect  mountain  of  gold  thrown  away,  every  year. 
Why  couldn't  Congress  pass  a  law,  abolishing  sin  ? 
If  there  wasn't  any  sin,  now!  But  then  that  would 
never  do.  There  wouldn't  be  any  more,  Congress. 
The  kind  we  have.  Nor  any  lawyers,  or  police,  or, — • 
no,  it  would  never  do.  Too  many  people  would  be 
thrown  out  of  employment,  and  there'd  be  the  worst 
kind  of  a  riot  unless  the  law  was  repealed." 


1 1 8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Fred's  brain  was  not  yet  in  the  best  of  working 
order,  and  he  felt  now,  in  spite  of  the  lemon,  the 
growing  pain  of  an  awful  craving  within  him. 

He  turned  deadly  pale  as  he  felt  it,  for  the 
thought  came  upon  him  that  in  this  place  he  would 
be  compelled  to  face  it,  once  for  all,  without  any 
possible  palliation  or  escape. 

The  thought  was  maddening. 

Could  he  live  through  it? 

"  That's  just  what  I  will  do,"  he  exclaimed  aloud. 
"  I  can't  get  any  here.  Now's  my  best  chance  for 
a  victory." 

"O  is  that  so?     Can't  you  get  any?" 

A  soft,  clear,  but  tremulous  and  deeply-agitated 
voice,  close  to  him,  and  it  made  him  spin  around  on 
his  feet  in  utter  astonishment. 

A  lady,  a  young  one,  and  well  dressed,  with  a 
refined,  intellectual  face  that  many  would  have 
called  handsome,  if  it  had  not  been  so  pale.  She 
seemed  to  be  shaking  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
nervous  tremor,  and  Fred  could  hardly  help  saying 
half-aloud : 

"Delirium  tremens!" 

"  No,  sir,  not  quite  that,  but  I  could  not  stay  in 
the  woman's  ward.  It's  right  across  the  passage, 
yonder.  It  was  easy  to  slip  out.  Did  you  say  it 
was  impossible  to  get  any  here  ?" 

"Any  what?" 

"  O  anything.     Seems  to  rne  I  could  drink  whis- 


A  VERY  REMARKABLE  HUNT.  ug 

key,  though  brandy  is  what  I  always  want  when  the 
fit  comes  on." 

"Try  a  lemon,  and  then  tell  me  about  it." 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  physicians  ?  I  haven't  seen 
one  yet.  Not  till  I  saw  you." 

Fred  was  cutting  the  lemon,  and  did  not  make 
any  answer,  but  the  young  lady  grasped  the  half  he 
handed  her  with  a  teverish,  thirsty  eagerness. 

"  It  is  good  for  me.  I  know  that  by  experience," 
she  said.  "  How  nice  it  is.  But,  O  that  I  should 
come  to  this.  I,  Carrie  Dillaye !  I'm  glad  my  mother 
is  dead.  What  would  Uncle  Daniel  say.  now,  and 
Mabel  ?  I  wouldn't  dare  to  die,  though.  And  yet 
I  don't  believe  there  is  any,  over  there." 

•'  A  little  flighty, '  thought  Fred,  but  he  had  not 
missed  a  word  of  her  incoherent  soliloquy. 

"  Try  the  other  half,  Miss  Dillaye,"  he  said,  gently. 
"  How  did  all  this  happen  ?  When  did  you  get 
here?" 

"Yesterday  morning,  sir.  I  must  have  drank  my- 
self crazy,  and  then  I  don't  know  what  happened. 
All  I  know  is  that  I'm  here.  I  haven't  even  told 
them  what  my  name  is.  How  do  you  know  it? 
Did  I  ever  see  you  before  ?" 

"  No,  but  what  do  you  mean  to  do?  Shall  you 
write  to  Mr.  Brown  or  Miss  Varick  ?" 

It  had  been  a  somewhat  daring  guess  and  ven- 
ture, and  Fred  was  taken  all  aback  by  the  conse- 
quences. 


120  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Such  a  frightened,  appealing,  earnest  gaze  from 
those  deep,  sorrowful  gray  eyes,  and  then  a  lady 
kneeling  at  his  feet  in  a  storm  of  passionate  weep* 
ing. 

"  No  !  no  !  A  thousand  times  no  !  O-  sir,  do  not 
tell  them  of  this  disgrace.  That  I  am  on  the  Island. 
Indeed,  sir,  I  have  done  nothing  wrong.  Not  a 
single  thing.  Seems  to  me  I  did  not  even  sin  in 
taking  the  brandy.  It  was  in  me  before  I  knew.  I 
can't  tell  how  it  was.  Don't  let  them  know.  It's 
only  for  twenty  days.  I  can  bear  it." 

Fred  took  her  folded  hands  to  raise  her  up,  and 
just  then  one  of  those  rare  birds,  a  hospital  assist- 
ant, came  hurrying  up  to  ascertain  the  meaning 
of  it. 

A  female  prisoner  in  that  ward! 

HoW  could  such  a  thing  have  happened? 

As  if  it  had  never  happened  before! 

"  Silence,  Miss  Dillaye,"  whispered  Fred.  "  I  will 
keep  your  secret,  and  I  will  see  you  again.  Take 
this  lemon.  You  must  go  back,  now.  On  no  ac- 
count take  any  stimulus." 

And  then  he  turned  to  the  rapid  questions  of  the 
nurse,  not  answering  any  of  them,  with : 

"  She  had  better  have  a  soothing  draught  of  some 
kind.  There's  been  a  mistake.  Can't  you  see  it  ? 
Be  as  respectful  as  you  know  how,  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  you." 

Something  of  authority  in  his  voice  and  manner 


A  VERY  REMARKABLE  HUNT.  I2i 

had  its  effect  on  the  natural  born  subordinate  before 
him.  Men  who  were  made  with  a  cringe  in  them 
quickly  understand  who  is  and  who  is  not  a  proper 
object  of  their  temporary  tyranny,  and  the  nurse 
obeyed  with  alacrity.  A  female  assistant  was  called 
from  the  adjoining  ward,  and  Caroline  Dillaye  was 
led  back  to  her  own  quarters  with  a  show  of  gentle- 
ness which  owed  something,  even  then,  to  the  addi- 
tional injunctions  and  imperative  words  of  Fred 
Heron. 

"  If  you're  a  doctor,  sir,"  said  the  assistant,  on  his 
return,  "  I  wish  you'd  lend  us  a  hand.  There's  so 
many  on  leave,  workin'  up  the  primaries  in  their 
own  wards,  that  we  hain't  men  enough  to  feed  'em, 
let  alone  bandages  and  medicines.  The  surgeon, 
he's  wild  about  it,  but  then  he  dasn't  peep,  you 
know." 

"Guess  I  know  enough  to  help  you  a  little,"  re- 
plied Fred.  "Fix  this  bandage  of  mine,  will  you, 
and  give  me  an  egg  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  I'll  see 
what  I  can  do." 

There  are  those  who  would  have  called  it  "  cheek," 
but  a  better  phrase  would  be,  "  Readiness  to  take 
advantage  of  circumstances." 

When  his  own  hurt  was  dressed,  he  quietly  re- 
marked : 

"Thank  you,  but  if  I  can't  beat  you  at  that  I'll 
give  up.  Where'd  you  get  your  training?" 

"  Never  had  much.    I  was  an  iron-moulder  before 


122  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

I  went  into  politics,  and  I  most  wish  I  was  back  at 
my  trade,  sometimes.    On'y  this  'ere's  lighter  work." 

There  were  sufferers  in  that  hospital  whose  needs 
called  for  defter  and  more  delicate  fingers  than  those  of 
the  ex-iron-moulder,  and  the  latter  openly  expressed 
his  admiration  of  the  rapidity  and  skill  with  which 
his  new  helper  did  his  work  for  him.  He  conformed 
to  Fred's  requirement  about  the  coffee  and  eggs, 
and  when  the  surgeon  came  around  he  made  a  fair 
report  of  the  matter. 

"  Glad  of  it,"  replied  the  man  of  science,  "  but  he 
must  go  to  bed  himself,  now.  He's  worked  up  a 
fever  with  all  you've  put  on  him.  How  long's  he 
in  for?" 

"  Sixty  days.     Case  of  assault." 

"  I'll  keep  him  here,  then.  He's  no  primaries  to 
attend  to.  I  wish  the  police  would  pick  up  a  few 
more  like  him  and  send  'em  over." 

And  yet  all  the  skill  Fred  had  displayed  had  been 
"  picked  up,"  for  he  was  as  devoid  of  regular  pro- 
fessional training  as  if  he  had  been  appointed  to 
that  hospital  for  political  services  instead  of  resist- 
ing a  policeman. 

As  the  surgeon  said,  however: 

"  He's  a  gentleman,  and  well  educated.  He  couldn't 
know  less  than  the  rest  of  'em,  if  he  should  try. 
Seems  to  have  a  touch  of  humanity,  too." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SAVED  BY  A  SACRIFICE — OLIVER  ACCEPTS  A  CALL  AS 
ASSISTANT. 

OVER  such  a  path  as  that  had  been,  Dr.  Milyng 
had    led  his  pack    pony  by  a    precautionary 
length  of  lariat,  and   it   had   not   yet   brought   his 
head  around  the  corner  of  the  cliff. 

The  horse,  of  course,  bore  no  burden  except  his 
own  trappings  and  the  doctor. 

Had  the  path  behind  been  straight,  or  nearly  so, 
a  perfect  horseman  might  have  ventured  to  rein  back, 
for  a  few  yards,  at  least,  but,  as  it  was,  the  length  of 
a  man  would  bring  him  over  the  edge,  at  the  curve. 

Louder  and  clearer  rang  the  yells  and  whbopings, 
up  the  pass  from  the  rear,  and  the  end  was  evidently 
drawing  very  near. 

But  the  doctor's  iron  face  took  on  no  pallor,  nor 
did  his  hand  tremble  as  he  lowered  his  repeating 
rifle  and  leaned  it  against  the  rock  at  his  left. 

His  long  knife  was  out  next,  and  he  cut  the  throat- 
latch  of  his  bridle  and  the  strap  around  the  robe  of 
skins  behind  him,  on  the  crupper. 

123 


124 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


"Can't  save  the  saddle/'  he  said,  "but  I  can  do 
without  that  if  I  can  keep  the  pony.  Good-by,  old 
horse;  it  isn't  my  fault.  I  never  hated  anything 
worse  than  this  in  all  my  life." 

As  he  spoke,  he  lightly  removed  his  feet  from  the 
stirrups,  and  in  an  instant  he  was  down,  wedged  be- 
tween his  horse's  side  and  the  wall.  The  trembling 
beast  braced  himself  as  if  he  understood  it  all,  but 
he  had  no  foothold  sufficient  to  bring  his  strength 
to  bear. 

Off  came  the  bridle,  and  then,  as  if  to  -add  yet 
another  triumph  of  nerve  and  pluck,  the  doctor  seized 
the  horn  of  the  saddle  and  severed  the  surcingle  at 
a  blow. 

"I'd  give  a  ton  of  gold  rather  than  do  it,  but  I've 
no  other  chance,"  he  muttered,  hoarsely. 

And  then,  with  a  sharp,  despairing  neigh  of  sud- 
den agony  and  fear,  the  noble  animal  before  him 
reared  and  went  over  into  the  abyss,  while  the  con- 
jurer's great  robe  of  skins  floated  after  him  like  the 
out-spread  wings  of  a  condor  hovering  over  his 
prey. 

There  were  drops  of  cold  perspiration  on  the  doc- 
tor's face,  but  he  was  lying  flat  on  the  narrow  ledge, 
creeping  along  with  his  rifle  in  his  hand. 

The  savage  warriors  had  been  but  a  short  quarter 
of  a  mile  away  at  that  moment  of  terrible  decision, 
and  they  saw  enough  of  what  had  happened  to  bring 
them  to  a  sudden  halt. 


SA  FED  BY  A  SA  ORIFICE.  1 2  5 

A  moment  of  silence,  and  then  a  shrill  yell  of  ex- 
ultation. 

But  after  that  there  came  to  them  an  occasion  for 
careful  thinking,  for  their  keen,  practised  eyes  were 
searching  the  ravine,  and  the  presence  of  those 
whitened  bones  explained  the  mystery  to  them  in  a 
moment. 

Warned  in  time,  but  no  more,  for  any  further  fol- 
lowing would  have  brought  them  upon  that  track 
from  which  there  was  no  return. 

There  was  nothing  there,  now,  to  tempt  them  on, 
and  even  their  curiosity  gave  way  to  a  feeling  of 
dread  which  had  something  closely  akin  to  panic 
in  it. 

Weary  as  were  their  panting  ponies,  they  wheeled 
in  their  tracks  and  fled  along  the  pass  as  if  they 
feared  that  at  any  moment  it  might  give  way  be- 
neath their  feet. 

It  was  Bad  Medicine,  the  whole  of  it,  and  they 
felt  assured  that  only  a  suitable  fate  had  befallen 
the  sacrilegious  thief  who  had  dared  to  carry  away 
the  sacred  robe  during  the  mystic  slumbers  of  its 
owner. 

The  authority  of  the  conjurer  had  received  a 
tremendous  lift,  but  he  had  not  recovered  his 
property. 

Dr.  Milyng  lay  and  watched  the  retreating  horse- 
men until  the  last  one  was  out  of  sight,  and  then 
slowly  arose  to  his  feet.  He  had  saved  his  arms  and 


126  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

equipments,  and  the  pony  still  carried  his  other 
valuables.  But  what  was  to  be  done  about  them 
and  him? 

The  path  was  a  trifle  wider  where  the  pony  stood, 
and  his  own  size,  between  fourteen  and  fifteen  hands, 
was  in  favor  of  the  doctor's  next  undertaking. 

Carefully,  slowly,  with  pats  and  caresses  and  reas- 
suring words,  the  frightened  animal  was  relieved  of 
his  burdens,  and  these  were  drawn  forward  out  of  his 
way. 

Could  any  horse  be  backed  for  such  a  distance, 
over  such  a  mere  gangway? 

Patience  and  strength  and  skill  are  great  things, 
and  the  doctor  had  them  all. 

Foot  by  foot,  rod  after  rod,  until  a  spot  was 
reached  where  the  path  widened  into  a  little  table  of 
flat  rock. 

No  room  to  spare,  but  if  the  pony  would  do  his 
part  it  was  a  possibility,  and  the  doctor  slipped 
quickly  past  him. 

Gentle  pulls,  plenty  of  time  given  for  him  to  gather 
his  feet  under  him,  and  then  the  doctor  wanted  to 
shout,  for  the  pony's  head  was  safely  pointed  down 
the  pass. 

For  a  little  distance  he  led  him  on,  till  he  reached 
a  place  where  he  could  tether  him,  and  then  he  re- 
turned again  and  again  after  his  baggage.  He  did 
not  leave  a  pound  of  it  on  the  ledge,  and  he  even  sat 
down  and  repaired  the  saddle  and  bridle.  He  knew 


SA  VED  BY  A  SA  CRIFICE.  \  2  7 

that  his  enemies  were  using  that  time  to  get  further 
and  further  away  from  him. 

The  pony  was  laden  but  not  mounted,  and  the 
descent  began.  His  master  was  not  sure  enough  of 
his  training  to  risk  his  neck  on  him  there  and  then. 
Besides,  it  is  even  possible  the  doctor's  nerves  had 
endured  all  they  were  capable  of,  that  day. 

"  If  I  only  had  Oliver,  now,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  He  was  the  best  animal  for  mountain  work  that 
ever  stood  on  four  legs.  I'll  never  get  hold  of  such 
another  mule  as  long  as  I  live." 

Probably  not,  for  Oliver  was  as  much  of  an  ex- 
ceptional character  among  his  kind  as  the  mining 
explorer  was  among  his,  and  he  was  having  his  own 
peculiar  experiences,  that  day. 

His  sleep  had  been  refreshing,  and  his  breakfast 
of  dewy  grass  had  been  every  way  to  his  liking,  but 
he  could  not  easily  forget  all  he  had  learned  con- 
cerning coyotes  and  their  manner  of  life.  He  knew, 
too,  that  in  any  further  wanderings  on  that  plain  i»c 
would  be  sure  to  fall  in  again  with  its  various  abor- 
iginal inhabitants. 

In  short,  he  found  himself  longing  for  company, 
and  yet  in  dread  of  the  sort  he  was  most  likely  to 
obtain. 

Noon  came  and  went,  and  Oliver  moved  forward 
uneasily,  sheering  away  as  best  he  might  from  even 
a  group  of  buffaloes  and  an  occasional  deer. 

None  of  them  attempted  to  molest  him,  but  at 


128  THE  HEAR T  OF  IT. 

last  Oliver  suddenly  halted  and  shook  his  ears. 
There  could  be  no  mistaking  the  character  of  that 
short,  yelping,  vicious  bark.  He  had  felt  sure  they 
would  come  again,  or  others  like  them,  and  here 
they  were.  He  had  no  heart  for  eating  any  more, 
just  then,  but  trotted  nervously  forward,  and  it  may 
be  he  thought  of  the  buffalo  bull,  and  wondered  if 
he  could  already  have  been  entirely  eaten  up. 

It  was  a  moment  of  great  anxiety,  but  Oliver  was 
travelling  in  the  right  direction,  so  far  as  his  imme- 
diate safety  was  concerned,  albeit  he  was  running 
from  one  trouble  into  another. 

The  world  is  full  of  troubles,  and  here  were  more 
than  a  dozen  of  them,  cantering  across  the  prairie 
on  their  wiry  mustangs,  and  ready  to  bring  affliction 
to  any  created  thing  which  might  cross  their  path. 

Oliver  recognized  them  at  a  glance,  and  he  was 
too  much  of  a  white  man's  mule  to  regard  Apache 
warriors  with  unmixed  complacency.  He  paused 
and  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  a  chorus  of  whoops 
informed  him  that  the  recognition  had  been  mutual, 
and  that  it  was  now  too  late  for  him  to  take  coun- 
sel with  himself  as  to  the  policy  he  should  pursue. 

Similar  information,  if  hearkened  to  in  season, 
not  unfrequently  leads  individuals  with  shorter  ears 
than  Oliver's  to  their  wisest  strokes  of  genius.  That 
is,  the  world  looks  on  and  calls  it  genius,  when  the 
actor  himself  is  growling:  "  Couldn't  help  it,  you 
know." 


WELCOMING  THE  INEVITABLE.  129 

It  was  of  no  use  to  run  away,  and  therefore  Oliver 
uttered  a  long,  sonorous  bray  of  peace,  threw  up  hi^ 
heels,  and  trotted  straight  towards  the  half-sur- 
prised line  of  yelling  horsemen.  He  had  no  fear 
for  his  scalp,  there  being  no  treaty,  nor  any  chance 
for  one,  between  the  mules  and  the  Apaches. 

He  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  immediate  conse- 
quences, calmly  as  he  submitted  to  them,  for  the 
tallest,  fattest,  heaviest  of  the  tattooed  and  painted 
riders,  dismounted  from  the  undersized  brute  Ire  had 
been  killing,  transferred  his  bridle  to  Oliver,  and 
sprang  on  his  back  in  token  of  asserted  ownership. 

It  must  be  said  that  the  Big  Medicine  looked  bet- 
ter on  an  animal  of  Oliver's  size  and  general*  digmty 
of  appearance  than  on  the  wheezing  dwarf  he  had 
abandoned.  His  pride  returned  to  him  as  he  urged 
his  new  servant  to  his  paces,  and  his  comrades 
looked  on  in  glum  doubt  as  to  whether  they  should 
quietly  surrender  their  claim  to  a  share  in-  such  a 
prize.  They  knew  that,  although  a  mule,  m-ay  not 
have  the  speed  of  a  mustang,  such  a  specimen  as 
that,  with  a  little  fattening,  would  trade  for  a  dozen 
of  their  mottled  quadrupeds.  There  seemed  to  be 
no  help  for  it,  however,  so  suddenly  had  the  Big 
Medicine  made  his  pre-emption.  Besides,  the  fact 
of  his  recent  loss  was  in  his  favor,  and  he  was  the 
"  biggest  Indian"  of  that  squad. 

And  so,  for  the  day  was  well  spent  and  their  hunt 
had  been  fairly  successful,  they  wheeled  in  the  di- 


!  30  THE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

rection  of  their  camp,  and  Oliver's  mind  was  relieved 
of  any  further  anxiety  on  the  wolf  question.  But 
he  was  in  the  hands  of  the  aborigines,  for  all  that. 

That  is,  unless  the  cities  whose  ruins  are  to  be 
found  in  that  region  were  actually  built  by  the  hands 
of  men,  and  if  the  race  that  built  them  found  no 
other  race  there  before  them. 

Perhaps  the  coyotes  were  the  real  and  only  abor- 
igines, after  all. 

It  was  not  a  long  march  to  the  camp,  and  it  led 
through  the  scattered  remnants  of  the  ancient  town, 
many  of  which  could  have  been  turned  into  very 
fair  stables  for  valuable  live  stock,  now  they  were  no 
longer  needed  for  men. 

There  was  no  special  occasion  for  glorification 
over  the  capture  of  one  solitary  stray  mule,  but  the 
Big  Medicine  seemed  to  feel  that  the  plaster  for  his 
wounded  vanity  ought  to  be  exhibited  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  he  rode  right  onward  to  where,  in  default 
of  a  tavern  or  a  barber  shop,  the  influential  gossips 
of  the  dusky  community  were  accustomed  to  gather. 
It  was  the  inevitable  parliament  of  those  who  are 
able  or  anxious  to  live  on  the  labor  of  others,  and  to 
whom,  therefore,  the  disposition  of  affairs  is  com- 
mitted by  those  who  do  the  work— stupid  braves, 
squaws,  and  the  like. 

They  were  gathered  in  good  force,  for  the  expe^ 
dition  in  search  of  the  daring  horse-thief  had  not  re- 
turned, and  it  was  necessary  to  guess  when  it  would, 


WEL COMING  THE  INE  VITA BLE.  \  31 

and  if  it  would  or  would  not  be  successful.  Not 
even  the  conjurer  himself  surmised,  however,  how 
rare  a  feather  for  his  own  cap  the  absent  warriors 
would  bring  with  them. 

Still,  he  rode  his  new  mule  gallantly  in  before 
the  circle  of  admiring  eyes,  and  it  looked  to  them 
a  good  deal  as  if  their  mystery  man  must  have 
dreamed  to  some  purpose,  after  all. 

A  whoop,  a  sharp  jerk  at  the  reins,  much  sharper 
than  Oliver's  mouth  had  been  accustomed  to,  and 
he  halted  with  a  promptness  of  obedience  which  did 
him  no  end  of  credit. 

In  fact,  he  not  only  stopped  as  if  he  had  been 
shot,  just  as  he  reached  the  centre  of  the  circle,  but 
he  sat  down,  in  polite  imitation  of  the  other  chiefs 
among  whom  he  found  himself. 

It  was  admirably  well  done,  but  the  Big  Medicine 
was  not  Dr.  Milyng,  and  his  horsemanship  had 
taught  him  no  preparation  for  manoeuvres  of  that 
description.  The  whoop  had  hardly  died  away  on 
his  lips,  therefore,  before  he  found  himself  rolling 
on  the  ground  behind  the  highly  intelligent  beast  he 
had  come  there  to  boast  of. 

For  the  second  time  within  twenty-four  hours  the 
conjurer  had  provided  that  gathering  with  occasion 
for  unlimited  mirth,  and  he  arose  with  a  feeling  that 
if  this  was  to  go  on  his  influence  with  his  con- 
gregation would  be  gone  forever.  At  the  same 
time  he  discerned  that  any  severity  towards  Oliver 


!32  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

would  do  him  no  good,  and  that  there  might  be  more 
in  that  mule  than  appeared  on  the  surface.  He 
therefore,  when  he  regained  his  feet,  advanced  and 
reached  out  his  hand  as  if  to  stroke  the  long  ears. 
Instantly,  for  the  sign  had  a  meaning  he  had  learned 
well  in  days  by-gone,  Oliver  lay  down  at  full  length, 
as  if  dead. 

A  loud  shout  greeted  the  discovery  that,  at  last, 
the  Big  Medicine  had  secured  the  services  of  a 
"  medicine  mule,"  and  Oliver's  reputation  was  made. 
He  was  free  of  the  camp  from  that  day  forward,  and 
neither  coyotes  nor  mischievous  little  Indian  boys 
would  be  permitted  to  molest  him. 

Whether  his  exalted  character  would  exempt  him 
from  the  duties  of  a  burden  bearer  on  long  marches 
was  yet  a  problem  of  the  future,  but  it  was  glory 
enough  for  him,  when  he  arose,  not  to  be  imme- 
diately remounted.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  con- 
ducted away  from  the  assembly  of  the  magnates 
with  the  degree  of  respect  belonging  to  a  stranger 
whose  powers  and  qualities  were  as  yet  only  guessed 
at  by  those  who  led  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WISE  AS  A  SERPENT  AND  HARMLESS  AS  A  DOVE. 

WHEN  Mr.  Daniel  Brown  returned  to  his  lux- 
urious home,  that  afternoon,  he  carried  across 
the  threshold  a  face  so  clouded  with  anxiety  that 
Mabel  Varick  exclaimed,  on  meeting  him : 

"  O  Uncle  Daniel,  what  has  happened  ?  What 
is  the  matter?" 

"  Come  with  me  into  the  library,  my  dear.  I 
don't  think  I  could  eat  any  dinner  till  I've  talked  it 
over." 

Mabel's  face  assumed  at  once  that  look  of  loving 
sympathy  which  is  the  best  help  in  the  world  for  a 
man  who  has  troubles  to  talk  about,  for  her  good, 
kind  uncle  was  the  one  being  on  whom  her  girlish 
affections  as  well  as  her  reverence  had  centered 
themselves.  He  was  worthy  of  it,  every  bit,  and 
yet,  if  the  particular  trouble  in  hand  had  been  strictly 
his  own,  it  is  quite  possible  he  would  have  kept  it 
to  himself,  much  as  he  confided  in  his  fair  and  right- 
minded  niece. 

133 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  library  table  was  the  very  thing  to  hold  a 
council  over,  although  it  was  more  than  usually 
cluttered  that  day.  Books  and  maps  were  scat- 
tered over  its  surface,  and  the  presence  of  the  tray 
of  quartz  specimen-ores  might  have  told  a  tale  con- 
cerning one  of  Mabel's  idle  hours,  if  any  one  had 
been  in  a  mood  for  studying  such  indications. 

Mr.  Brown  was  a  very  direct  and  simple  sort  of 
man,  which  may  have  been  one  secret  of  his  success 
in  business,  and  he  was  at  once  in  the  middle  of  his 
first  subject. 

"There's  a  good  deal  to  tell,  my  dear.  To  begin 
with,  your  cousin  Caroline  has  disappeared." 

"  Disappeared  !  Uncle  ?" 

"  Gone  for  two  days,  and  no  one  seems  to  have  a 
trace  of  her.  You  know  the  physicians  declared 
her  entirely  cured  of  her  mania  for  stimulus,  and 
they  had  almost  ceased  to  watch  her  movements. 
Still,  I'm  inclined  to  connect  it  with  that." 

"She's  as  good  as  good  can  be,  Uncle  Daniel. 
O  poor  Carrie !  What  can  have  become  of  her." 

"  Every  means  is  being  taken  to  find  her.  It  can 
hardly  be  a  question  of  suicide,  however  it  may  be 
of  insanity.  You  know  she  has  sometimes  been 
quite  violent  in  her  fits  of  excitement." 

"So  gentle,  too.  To  think  of  her  inheriting  a 
disease  like  that.  And  yet  her  father  is  a  good 
man." 

"  And  so  was  his  father,  except  that  he  was  pretty 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  DOVE.  135 

wild  when  he  was  young.  We  can't  go  back  of  that 
with  any  certainty.  I  don't  believe  we  understand 
these  matters  very  well.  We  call  things  inherited 
for  want  of  a  better  explanation." 

"Do  you  think  there  is  one?" 

.  "  I  do  not  know.  I've  been  thinking  a  great  deal 
lately,  and  a  good  many  things  are  less  clear  to  me 
than  they  once  seemed  to  be." 

"  Carrie's  case  has  always  been  a  mystery.  It  is 
now.  I  wish  I  could  stop  thinking  about  it." 

"  I  can't.  Besides,  if  I've  been  on  the  wrong 
track,  all  these  years,  I  would  like  to  know  it.  Do 
you  know,  I'd  give  something  to  ask  that  odd  fellow — • 
I  don't  like  to  call  him  a  tramp — that  Mr.  Heron, 
what  he  thinks  of  such  a  case." 

"What  could  he  tell  you?" 

"  Something  from  his  own  experience,  it  may  be. 
Something  better  than  guess-work.  But  I'll  talk 
to  you  more  about  Carrie,  by-and-by.  It's  too  sad 
for  anything,  and  I  hardly  know  which  way  to 
turn." 

"  Why,  uncle,  are  there  any  more  misfortunes 
coming  upon  us  ?" 

a  Not  on  us,  my  dear,  but  on  our  friends.  Mrs 
Boyce— " 

"O  Uncle  Daniel,  she  was  here  this  morning,  to 
see  you,  and  she  hardly  seemed  like  herself.  She 
said  she  meant  to  go  to  your  office." 

"  Well,  she  came,  and  she  was  there  a  long  time. 


136  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

I  knew  the  firm  of  Boyce,  Millington  &  Co.  were 
in  doubtful  credit,  but  I'd  no  idea  things  were  so 
bad." 

"Have  they  failed?" 

"  They  will  to-morrow.  And  that  is  not  the  worst 
of  it.  They've  been  running  on  in  a  bankrupt  con- 
dition for  several  years — even  before  Mr.  Boyce 
died.  They  have  tried  to  regain  their  lost  foothold 
by  speculation,  and  have  only  made  matters  worse. 
There  is  absolutely  nothing  left,  and  poor  Mrs. 
Boyce  will  be  stripped  of  all  she  has  in  the  world. 
There  has  never  been  any  settlement  with  her.  In- 
deed, none  could  have  been  made,  as  I  understand 
it." 

"Will  she  lose  her  home?" 

"  Everything.  The  money  she  has  been  living 
on  ought  never  to  have  been  paid  her,  but  the  firm 
were  afraid  to  curtail  her  expenses,  for  fear  of  in- 
juring their  credit.  It  is  a  very  sad  affair." 

"  But  what  can  you  do,  Uncle  Daniel?" 

"Can  not  you  do  something,  my  dear?" 

The  idea  in  the  benevolent  mind  of  the  merchant 
was  a  vague  one,  and  he  would  hardly  have  wished 
to  be  the  first  to  express  it  in  words,  but  Mabel 
caught  it  and  put  it  in  shape  at  once,  like  the  en- 
thusiastic, warm-hearted  girl  that  she  was. 

"  May  I  ask  her  to  come  and  visit  with  me,  Uncle 
Daniel  ?  I'm  lonely  sometimes,  and  I'm  so  young, 
to  be  all  by  myself." 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  DO  VE.  137 

"  Take  your  carnage,  after  dinner,  and  go  over 
and  see  her.  If  she  will  come,  she  is  welcome.  Joe 
Boyce  and  I  were  schoolmates,  and  I'd  hardly  like 
to  see  his  widow  without  a  house  over  her  head,  or 
wherewithal  to  procure  a  meal  of  victuals." 

"She's  a  very  independent  woman." 

"  I  know  she  is,  but  then — " 

"I  know  she  has  an  immense  respect  for  you,  and 
if  I  tell  her  it's  your  invitation  as  well  as  mine,  I 
feel  sure  she'll  come." 

"You  may  tell  her  anything  you  please,  Mabel. 
Come,  now,  let  us  go  in  to  dinner." 

"  Did  that  Mr.  Heron  make  his  appearance  to- 
day, uncle?" 

"  No,  my  dear,  and  I  half-hoped  he  would." 

"  He's  another  independent  person,  if  I  am  any 
judge  of  faces." 

"  He  would  not  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  me,  I  am 
sure  of  that.  And  yet  I'd  like  to  do  him  one,  if 
only  for  keeping  old  Prince  from  poisoning  himself." 

"  So  would  I.  Dear  old  Prince.  He  has  been 
the  proudest  dog  you  ever  saw,  all  day." 

And  so  they  went  into  dinner,  and  Mr.  Brown 
found  his  appetite  returning,  now  he  had  in  a  man- 
ner discharged  his  mind  of  its  load.  It  was  a  brief 
meal,  however,  for  some  things' could  not  be  dis- 
cussed before  the  servants,  and  both  uncle  and 
niece  were  anxious  to  be  back  in  'the  library. 

A  lonelier  meal   than   theirs  had    been   that    of 


138  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Mrs.  Boyce,  for  she  had  taken  it  in  her  own  room. 

Already  she  had  given  warning  to  her  servants, 
and  all  but  two  or  three  had  been  paid  and  dis- 
missed. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  law  is,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  but  they  are  poor,  and  the  creditors  of  the 
firm  are  mostly  rich.  I  shall  be  poor  to-morrow, 
and  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  disappointed  about  my 
wages — if  I  ever  earn  any." 

A  sound  spot  in  the  mind  and  will  of  the  charm- 
ing widow,  but  for  all  that  she  had  been  planning 
a  "situation"  for  herself. 

Truth  to  tell,  she  had  not  been  so  ignorant  as 
her  husband's  business  partners  imagined,  of  the 
true  state  of  affairs,  and  if,  when  they  objected  to 
her  drafts  on  them,  she  had  insisted  so  strenuously 
and  urged  the  necessities  of  her  household  as  a 
ground  for  them,  she  had  had  her  own  notions  as 
to  how  long  those  drafts  would  continue  to  be  hon- 
ored. That  was  the  reason,  too,  why  all  the  money 
so  drawn  had  not  slipped  through  her  fingers,  and 
why  she  was  even  now  so  much  in  the  habit  of  re- 
calling to  mind  the  parable  of  the  unjust  steward. 

Mrs.  Boyce  was  not  the  sort  of  person  to  go  into 
voluntary  starvation,  but  she  was  all  the  better 
prepared  to  meet  the  impending  crash  because  it 
did  not  come  upon  her  as  a  surprise. 

She  had  thought,  planned,  studied,  and  no  part 
of  her  plans  had  been  more  carefully  elaborated 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  DO  VE.  \  39 

than  her  interview  with  Mr.  Brown,  that  morning. 
She  would  have  preferred  the  house,  with  Mabel 
within  call,  but  she  had  made  up  her  mind,  after- 
wards, that  the  down-town  office  was  just  as  well, 
if  not  better. 

So  dignified  she  had  been,  so  carefully  self-con- 
trolled, so  business-like,  in  short,  so  wise  as  a  ser- 
pent and  so  harmless  as  a  dove,  that  Mr.  Brown 
had  heard  her  story  in  utter  forgetfulness  that  the 
world  contained  serpents,  and  with  an  increasing 
pity  for  the  undeserved  misfortunes  of  its  widowed 
doves. 

"  I  think  he  will,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
poured  out  a  second  cup  of  tea.  "I  think  Mabel 
will  come  into  it  at  once.  They'll  never  be  willing 
to  let  me  go  after  I  am  once  settled  in  the  family. 
But  I  must  not  let  Mr.  Brown  know  I've  any 
money  left.  That  would  spoil  it  all.  It  isn't  much, 
to  be  sure,  but  after  the  failure  is  all  arranged  I 
can  make  some  disposition  of  it,  so  it  will  grow. 
I'm  sure  Millington  and  the  rest  have  taken  care  of 
themselves,  but  not  one  of  them  will  think  of  car- 
ing for  me." 

It  was  a  time  of  peculiar  anxiety,  nevertheless,  in 
spite  of  her  confidence  in  the  skill  with  which  she 
had  managed  her  campaign.  The  greatest  generals 
must  have  their  moments  of  doubt  as  to  the  battle's 
issu-e  when  they  hear  the  rattle  of  the  first  firing 
along  the  skirmish  line. 


140 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


Patiently,  over  her  tea,  and  not  expecting  any 
immediate  tokens  of  success,  the  widow  sat  and 
studied  the  plans  she  had  matured  for  her  future, 
an'd  the  unflinching  courage  she  was  displaying  was 
worthy  of  any  man's  admiration.  She  was  no  ordi- 
nary woman,  and  her  wisdom  merited  success  as 
much  as  any  purely  worldly  wisdom  ever  can. 

Faint  and  far  away,  from  the  lower  part  of  the 
great  house,  came  the  tinkle  of  the  front-door  bell. 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?  O  I  will  not  receive  any  call- 
ers to-night,  and  I  forgot  to  say  so.  Well,  I  don't 
care  who  it  is,  I'll  send  word  that  I  am  engaged. 
Martha — " 

The  door  of  her  room  was  pushed  gently  open 
as  she  spoke,  and  she  turned  her  head  expecting  to 
add  her  message,  but  the  door-bell  had  been  rung 
by  a  hand  that  did  not  intend  to  be'  pushed 
away. 

"  Mabel  Varick !  My  dear  girl,  what  does  this 
mean?  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  but  has  anything  hap- 
pened? Your  uncle?" 

"  He  has  told  me  all  about  it,  Mrs.  Boyce.  I've 
just  come  to  cry  and  to  ask  you  to  visit  with  me. 
Uncle  Daniel  said  so,  and  he  means  every  word 
of  it." 

"  My  dear,  do  you  mean  he  has  made  up  his 
mind  to  cry?  Now,  Mabel,  sweet." 

And  the  widow's  arms  were  around  her  guest,  for 
there  were  genuine  tears  in  Mabel's  eyes,  and  the 


THE  WISD OM  OF  THE  DOVE.  141 

widow  had  a  heart  of  her  own  in  spite  of  her 
worldly  wisdom. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  won't  cry.  I  must  do  all  of  that. 
Don't  you  do  any,  please.  But  he  wants  you  to 
come  and  take  care  of  me  for  awhile.  You'll  come, 
won't  you  ?" 

"  Why,  Mabel,  dear,  not  now.  I  could  not  come 
to-night." 

"Can't  you?  I  shall  be  so  disappointed.  I 
thought  from  what  he  said  you  had  lost  every- 
thing." 

"  So  I  have,  dear,  except  the  golden  hearts  of 
some  of  my  friends.  The  house  does  not  belong 
to  me  any  more,  nor  the  furniture,  nor  anything. 
Except,  I  suppose,  my  own  wardrobe,  and  my 
jewelry.  Mr.  Brown  tells  me  I've  a  right  to  keep 
all  of  that.  I  mean  to  be  guided  by  him  in  every- 
thing." 

"  But  you  can  see  him  better  at  our  house.  I've 
brought  the  carriage.  Come,  now.  In  the  morn- 
ing you  can  drive  around  and  attend  to  matters. 
It's  dreadful  to  leave  you  here,  all  alone,  at  such  a 
time." 

Mrs.  Boyce  had  been  thinking  rapidly,  and  she 
saw  that  the  iron  was  hot.  It  was  therefore  the 
time  to  strike,  and  she  allowed  herself  to  be  over- 
persuaded.  There  might  have  been  a  mistake  or  a 
risk  in  not  doing  so,  and  Mabel  had  her  own  sweet, 
kind-hearted  way. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BEARING  ONE  ANOTHER'S  BURDENS. 

THERE  had  been  that  in  the  previous  experi- 
ence of  Fred  Heron  which  gave  him  a  trained 
capacity  for  adapting  himself  to  circumstances,  but 
for  all  that  his  feverish  slumbers,  during  the  suc- 
ceeding twelve  or  fourteen  hours,  were  disturbed 
by  all  sorts  of  mental  phenomena.  He  awoke  in 
the  morning,  a  good  deal  refreshed,  though  still 
weak,  and  it  required  half  an  hour  or  so  of  thinking 
before  he  had  quite  mastered  his  peculiar  surround- 
ings. 

It  all  came  to  him,  at  last,  and  by  no  means  the 
least  important  of  his  new  interests  was  his  curiosity 
concerning  his  lady  acquaintance  of  the  previous 
afternoon.  He  arose  and  dressed  himself  with  little 
difficulty,  his  control  of  his  limbs  improving  with 
every  use  he  made  of  them,  and,  by  that  time,  Mil- 
ler, the  hospital  assistant,  made  his  appearance. 

The  surgeon's  remarks  were  duly  reported,  and 
Miller  added:  "  He'll  fix  it  all  for  you.  It'll  be  a 
142 


FRIENDS  IN  AD  VERSITY.  143 

heap  better,  every  way.  You  won't  be  turned  in 
with  the  rest  of  the  crowd.  You'll  have  better  quar- 
ters and  better  rations.  Plenty  to  do,  perhaps— 

"  O  I  won't  mind  that,"  interrupted  Fred.  "  Any, 
thing  but  idleness  for  me.  I'm  glad  of  a  chance. 
How  about  breakfast?  I'll  be  ready  to  go  to  work, 
after  that." 

The  rules  of  the  place  were  briefly  explained  to 
him,  and  they  were  simple  enough  for  any  man's 
comprehension.  Breakfast  was  an  affair  for  which 
he  would  have  to  wait  his  turn.  He  felt  no  appe- 
tite, but  he  had  an  idea  growing  within  him,  and 
it  was  very  necessary  to  its  carrying  out  that  he 
should  eat  and  recover  strength  as  fast  as  might  be. 

Food,  too,  was  likely  to  be  his  best  help  against 
that  gnawing  enemy  within  him,  and  constant  oc- 
cupation another  nearly  as  good. 

After  awhile  he  ventured  to  ask  a  question  or  two 
concerning  the  female  ward,  and  Miller  replied  with 
a  grin : 

"  O  you  want  to  learn  somethin'  'bout  her,  do  ye  ? 
Well,  I'll  make  out  to  send  ye  in  there  on  an  errand 
of  some  kind,  by-and-by.  She's  a  lady.  There's 
no  mistaking  that.  Do  you  know  'bout  her?" 

"  Ought  not  to  be  here  at  all.  It's  a  stupid  blun- 
der of  the  police.  They'd  never  have  done  it  for 
anything,  if  they'd  known.  She  probably  got  away 
from  her  friends,  and  was  violent,  that's  all." 

That  was  not  all,  nor  did  Fred  so  much  as  guess 


144  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

what  a  providence  had  carried  Miss  Dillaye  to  the 
station-house  and  the  Island,  instead  of  leaving  her 
in  the  hands  of  the  demons  who  were  surrounding 
her  when  her  own  excesses  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  blind  ministers  of  a  blind  iu-atice. 

Miller  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  k  was  all  the 
better  for  Fred's  purpose  that  his  "  errand"  was  to 
the  matron  of  the  female  ward. 

A  word  in  the  private  ear  of  that  experienced 
individual.  A  suggestion  concerning  influential 
friends,  wealth,  position,  good  things  to  come,  and 
he  could  afford  to  say  with  emphasis: 

"  She  must  be  kept  here,  you  know.  Not  turned 
in  with  the  rest.  It's  an  exceedingly  delicate  mat- 
ter." 

"  I  understand.  Guess  you  can't  teach  me  much. 
Do  you  want  to  see  her?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  And  you  must  be  careful  she 
doesn't  get  hold  of  stimulus  of  any  kind." 

"  Dipsomania.  That's  what  they  call  it  for  rich 
people.  Gin  fever  for-  common  folks.  Well,  she's 
up  and  dressed.  There  she  is,  over  yonder.  Guess 
she  sees  you." 

Fred  approached  in  a  straightforward,  business 
manner,  as  became  a  hospital  assistant,  but  the 
first  word  he  heard  was : 

"O  sir,  you  have  not  let  them  know?  And  yet 
I  shall  die  if  I  cannot  get  away  from  here.  Such 
things  as  I  have  heard  and  seen!" 


FRIENDS  fN  ADVERSITY.  145 

"  I  am  powerless  to  help  you,  except  in  one  way. 
I  am  as  much  of  a  prisoner  as  you  are." 

"You?  A  prisoner?  Why,  you  are  a  gentleman. 
Your  head  is  hurt,  I  know,  but  then — " 

"  I  haven't  anything  in  the  world  I'm  so  proud 
of  as  I  am  of  that  bandage,"  said  Fred,  "  but  we 
won't  talk  about  that,  now.  I  must  send  word  to 
your  friends." 

"  Not  to  my  father.  O  not  to  my  father.  I  can 
never  look  him  in  the  face  again." 

"To  Mr.  Brown,  then,  or  Miss  Varick.  I  think 
I  shall  do  so,  even  without  your  permission." 

"O  sir,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"  Get  out  of  this.  Do  you  feel  any  return  of  your 
thirst?" 

"  Not  so  much,  but  it  was  dreadful  last  night. 
I  don't  know  what  I'd  have  done,  but  for  that 
lemon." 

"  Then  I  guess  it  did  come  from  Him,  after  all," 
muttered  Fred,  "  and  maybe  He  knew  beforehand 
where  it  was  going.  I  thought  it  could  hardly  have 
been  meant  for  me." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you  ?" 

"  No  more  do  I.  The  matron  is  waiting  to  speak  to 
me.  Keep  as  quiet  as  you  can.  I  must  go  now." 

And  to  the  robust  and  all  but  masculine  official, 
he  said  : 

"  I  shall  write  to  her  friends,  to-day.  You  won't 
be  forgotten." 


146  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

There  was  little  more  to  be  said  but,  somehow, 
it  was  three  days  before  Mr.  Brown  received  the 
letter  Fred  wrote  on  going  back  to  his  own  ward. 

There  was  enough  for  him  to  do  there,  for  the 
exigencies  of  a  great  political  party  had  rendered 
the  corps  of  helpers  exceptionally  thin,  at  that 
juncture,  but  he  had  a  trial  in  store  for  him  that 
day. 

The  hospital  dispensary,  with  its  store  of  drugs 
of  every  description,  was  under  the  especial  and 
very  competent  charge  of  the  regular  surgical  and 
medical  authorities  of  the  institution  and  their 
more  or  less  educated  pupils  and  assistants.  Fred 
soon  found  out  that  a  line  was  drawn,  after  all,  be- 
tween the  former  and  men  of  Miller's  class,  but  he 
also  discovered  that  if  anything  once  got  out  of  the 
dispensary,  its  chances  for  getting  back  again  were 
small,  indeed. 

Somehow  or  other,  too,  a  great  many  things  did 
get  out,  and  they  were  not  always  the  precise  articles 
covered  by  the  written  prescriptions,  in  every  case. 

There  was  a  mystery  in  it,  and  one  not  to  be 
solved  by  a  "  sixty-day  man,"  on  duty  as  a  tem- 
porary nurse.  Fred  readily  understood  that  there 
was  no  purpose  of  making  things  clear  to  him,  but 
he  was  none  the  less  startled  when,  that  second 
afternoon,  in  the  cot  of  a  patient  who  had  been  un- 
expectedly removed,  he  found  a  small  paper  box 
labelled  "  P.  Ophii.  2  gr.,"  and  which  contained  a  full 


FRIENDS  IN  AD  VERSIT  Y.  ! 47 

dozen  of  little  round  pellets.  He  felt  morally  sure 
that  no  one  of  the  hospital  magnates  had  ordered 
the  issue  of  such  a  prescription,  although  it  was  not 
impossible.  At  all  events,  he  stuck  the  box  in  his 
pocket,  until  he  finished  making  up  the  cot. 

When  he  mentioned  it  to  Miller,  the  ex-iron- 
moulder  looked  at  him  vaguely,  and  said: 

"Well?" 

"What  am  I  to  do  with  it?" 

"  I  dunno.  Eat  it.  We  never  minds  them  things. 
If  it's  wuth  anythin'  it's  your  luck,  and  if  it  isn't, 
why,  tain't  hard  to  get  rid  of  a  box  o'  pills." 

"Then  I  can  keep  it?" 

"  Make  a  breastpin  of  it,  if  ye  want  to.  We  don't 
watch  no  sweepin's  here." 

Little  did  Miller  imagine  the  importance  of  what 
he  was  saying,  or  how  every  nerve  in  Fred  Heron's 
body  was  quivering  with  eager  appreciation  of  the 
untold  wealth  contained  in  that  little  paper  box. 

Even  the  gnawing  within  him  released  its  busy 
teeth  for  a  moment,  as  if  in  anticipation  of  better 
things  to  come,  and  Fred  felt  a  warm  glow  arising 
in  his  pallid  cheeks  and  forehead. 

Et  was  his,  to  do  with  as  he  chose. 

His  by  !he  rules  and  customs  of  the  hospital. 

But  what  would  he  choose  to  do  with  it? 

That  was  the  question,  and  a  tremendous  ques- 
tion it  was. 

He  was  glad  he  had  written  concerning  Caroline 


1 48     '  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Dillaye  before  this  other  matter  came  up.  He 
could  not  have  held  a  pen  or  spelled  a  word  after 
that. 

Even  Miller  wondered  what  was  the  matter  with 
him,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  hospital  did  not 
contain  work  enough  for  him  to  do. 

"  Guess  he  must  have  a  mighty  big  practice  when 
he's  out,"  muttered  Miller,  "  and  he's  kind  o'  makin' 
up  for  it.  He's  the  smartest  feller  we've  had  sent 
over  since  I've  been  here.  Wonder  what  he'll  do 
with  them  pills.  He  can't  eat  'em.  They'd  kill 
him,  sure." 

There  is  no  natural  power  in  a  box  of  pills  to 
generate  heat.  No  locomotive  was  ever  run  by 
means  of  a  box  of  pills  under  the  boiler.  But,  for 
all  that,  it  seemed  to  Fred  Heron  as  if  the  hottest 
thing  he  had  ever  heard  of  were  burning  and  burn- 
ing in  his  left  vest-pocket. 

Would  he  be  able  to  stand  it  after  sunset,  and  all 
through  the  night  ? 

He  could  throw  them  away. 

No,  he  could  not.  He  felt  that  he  could  not,  and 
that  there  would  be  no  good  in  it,  if  he  did.  He 
had  taken  the  pledge  too  often  not  to  know  how 
slender  a  thing  is  any  sort  of  "dodge"  in  a  struggle 
between  a  man  and  his  appetites. 

There  was  no  definite  shape  or  form,  however,  in 
the  thoughts  and  purposes  which  came  to  him  and 
went  from  him,  and  he  was  all  in  a  mist,  when,  a 


FRIENDS  IN  AD  VERSITY. 

little  before  sunset,  he  stood  by  the  window  near 
his  own  bed  and  looked  dreamily  out  towards  the 
great  city. 

"  There  it  is,"  he  muttered.  "The  city.  And  I 
cannot  get  there.  I've  no  place  there,  if  I  could. 
I  wonder  if  I'll  ever  have.  There's  another  city 
somewhere.  Even  the  old  Norse  heathens  had  heard 
of  it,  and  they  called  it  Asgard,  and  said  that  the 
good  fighters  would  go  there.  Especially  if  they 
fell  in  battle.  I'm  not  a  good  fighter.  I'm  being 
whipped,  now,  by  a  paper  box  of  muddy-looking 
pills." 

"  Please,  sir,  if  you'd  only  take  it  away  from  me." 

The  same  soft,  silvery,  tremulous  voice  he  had 
heard  in  that  spot  the  previous  afternoon,  and,  when 
he  turned  around,  there  was  Miss  Dillaye,  with  a 
strange  flush  in  her  face  and  a  brightness  in  her 
eyes,  holding  out  to  him  a  small,  flat  flask  of 
glass. 

"  I  gave  one  of  the  nurses  five  dollars  to  bring  it 
to  me,  but  now  I've  had  it  in  my  hands  I  feel 
stronger.  I  can't  give  it  up,  but  if  you  would  take 
it  away  from  me  !" 

"  I'll  do  that,  Miss  Dillaye,  but  you  must  do  some- 
thing for  me  at  the  same  time." 

"  If  I  can.  Only  don't  wait  too  long.  I  can't 
wait;" 

"  Feel  in  my  vest-pocket,  there.  No,  I'll  hand  it 
to  you.  I'm  not  so  far  gone  as  that.  I'd  rather 


I  50  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

hand  it  to  you,  of  my  own  free  will.  I'll  keep  the 
flask/' 

"  You  won't  drink  it  ?" 

"  No,  and  you'll  not  eat  the  pills?" 

"The  nasty  things.  No,  indeed,  I  feel  so  much 
better.  All  I  ever  need  is  a  little  help  at  the  right 
time.  I'm  so  glad  you  were  here.  Have  you  sent 
the  word?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Dillaye.  I've  written  to  Mr.  Brown. 
But  you  must  promise  me  one  thing." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  Never  to  tell  Mr.  Brown,  or  anybody  else,  that 
you  saw  me  here." 

"  Certainly.  But  I'm  glad  I  did  see  you  here.  I 
don't  believe  you  are  bad." 

"  Yes,  I  am,  but  I'll  tell  you  how  I  came  to  be 
sent  here." 

And  he  did  so,  briefly  and  simply,  not  concealing 
anything,  and  Miss  Dillaye's  pale,  refined  face,  took 
on  a  tinge  of  the  most  respectful  admiration,  by 
the  time  he  finished  his  story.  It  did  not  go  an 
an  hour  back  of  his  interference  with  the  police- 
man. She  exclaimed : 

"  O  sir,  you  are  a  kind  of  martyr." 

"  Only  a  sixty-day  martyr.  After  that  I  shall  be 
something  else." 

"  I'm  not  even  that.  I  can't  tell  you  anything, 
except  that  I  think  something  was  born  in  me." 

"To  be  thirsty?" 


FRIENDS  IN  AD  VERSIT  Y.  j  5  j 

"  Once  in  awhile.  It  had  not  come  for  a  year,  till 
the  other  day.  It  came  so  suddenly.  Then  I  don't 
know  what  happened,  after  that.  O  here's  the 
matron.  You'll  keep  the  flask?" 

"  Of  course,  and  glad  to.  You  won't  have  them 
bring  you  any  more?" 

"Not  for  the  world.  But  O  what  shall  I  say 
when  I  see  my  father!" 

The  matron  was  inclined  to  be  surly  in  her  pro- 
test against  so  reckless  a  violation  of  rules,  even  by 
a  privileged  character,  and  Carrie  was  led  back 
within  her  proper  meets  and  bounds  in  a  state  of 
something  like  humiliation,  but  Fred  Heron  felt  as 
if  he  had  made  a  long  march  towards  the  City — 
the  City  of  Asgard,  where  the  gods  live. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  SITUATION    CHEERFULLY    ACCEPTED    BY  MAN 
AND  BEAST. 

DR.  MILYNG  felt  very  positive  that  he  would 
find  no  hostile  presence  in  his  way,  as  he  re- 
traced his  steps  down  that  winding  and  perilous 
pass,  but  he  kept  up  the  keenest  and  most  cau- 
tious outlook.  He  did  not  intend  to  stumble  into 
another  trap,  after  his  narrow  escape  from  the  one 
set  for  him  by  the  buffalo  drove. 

"  So  much,"  he  said,  "  for  blindly  following  too 
old  a  trail.  It  was  made  too  long  ago.  Led  over 
the  mountains  well  enough  in  those  days.  Every- 
thing gets  played  out  in  the  course  of  time.  Even 
a  buffalo-path.  But  the  mountains  don't  play  out, 
and  I've  got  to  find  my  way  across  'em,  somehow. 
Sorry  I  had  to  throw  away  that  horse,  but  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  Glad  the  pony's  a  good  one.  I 
can  manage  with  him  after  a  fashion,  but  I'll  have 
to  foot  it  a  good  deal.  Don't  mind  that.  I  can 
outwalk  anything  that  ever  went  on  four  legs,  ex- 
t  Oliver.  What  a  mule  he  was.  Wish  I  had 
152 


A  CCEP  TING  THE  SITU  A  TION.  1 5  3 

him  now.     He'd  be  worth   a  whole  corral  of  mus- 
tangs." 

No  doubt  of  that,  but  the  pony  was  plodding 
along  very  patiently,  and  really  looked  well  in  the 
trappings  which  he  had  fallen  heir  to.  He  even 
seemed  to  take  a  kind  of  pride  in  them,  as  if  he 
had  been  promoted  and  felt  the  dignity  of  his  new 
shoulder-straps. 

Still,  they  did  not  make  a  full-sized  horse  of  him, 
any  more  than  an  extra  allowance  of  stars  will 
make  a  general  out  of  a  successful  demagogue. 

It  was.  by  no  means  pleasant  to  come  out  again  on 
the  same  side  of  the  range,  after  all  that  toil  and  dan- 
ger, but  the  doctor  was  compelled  to  content  him- 
self. And,  after  all,  it  was  something  to  have 
brought  whole  bones  and  his  breath  back  from 
such  an  adventure. 

"  The  luck  of  the  mine  ought  to  be  pretty  well 
used  up,  for  awhile,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I'm 
kind  o'  glad  it  came  all  in  a  heap  and  got  beaten. 
Now,  if  I  make  good  time,  it  may  not  catch  up  with 
me  again  before  I  get  across  the  alkali  plains.  It 
wouldn't,  if  it  was  any  ordinary  mine,  but  then, 
that  one — I  must  make  the  best  kind  of  time." 

Precisely  what  he  meant,  he  might  not  have  been 
able  to  put  in  words,  but  it  was  a  real  and  practi- 
cal thing  to  him,  nevertheless.  As  real  as  Napo- 
leon's "  star"  was  to  him,  or  Caesar's  "  fortune,"  or 
any  gambler's  "run  of  luck." 


I  54  THE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

Intangible,  chimerical,  fanciful,  the  creations  of 
diseased  or  overheated  imaginations,  unworthy  the 
serious  consideration  of  scientific  investigation,  are 
all  these  puerile  superstitions,  but  sometimes  pne 
turns  from  the  positive  chemist  in  his  little  shop, 
so  sure  of  his  "  laws"  and  their  operation,  and 
thinks  of  Attila,  Timour,  Hannibal,  and  the  rest, 
and  wonders  if  the  party  in  the  shop  has  got  it  all. 

If  one  has  ever  heard  of  Moses,  Abraham,  Paul, 
Daniel,  and  a  few  others  of  that  sort,  still  another 
field  is  open  to  him,  unless  he  is  in  fear  of  the  de- 
risive smile  of  the  little  man  among-  the  crucibles. 

o 

And  he? — Well,  he  is  ever  as  ready  as  an  inch- 
xvorm  to  raise  his  derisive  back  and  measure  his  in- 
finite length  of  worm  over  anything  and  everything 
which  he  has  decided  is  "  immaterial." 

But  the  doctor  kept  steadily  on  till  he  came  to 
the  place  where  he  had  turned  into  the  ancient 
highway  of  the  bisons. 

Not  a  redskin  was  in  sight,  nor  any  other  sign  of 
danger,  as  he  wheeled  southward,  but  he  turned 
and  looked  along  the  path  which  had  cost  him  his 
day's  work  and  his  best  horse,  with  the  remark: 

"  There's  just  one  thing  I'd  like  to  have  some- 
body explain  to  me.  All  the  droves  took  that 
trail,  up  to  the  one  that  was  lost  on  it,  and  it's  safe 
to  bet  that  not  another  hoof  has  tried  it  from  that 
day  to  this.  Now,  how  did  the  rest  of  'em  get  the 
secret?  It  beats  me.  I've  known  such  things  come 


A  CCEP  TING  THE  SITU  A  TION.  1 5  5 

out  in  a  good  many  ways.  A  fellow  told  me,  once, 
it  was  a  good  deal  the  same  way  with  fish.  I  tell 
you  what*  there's  something  talks  to  the  animals 
that  don't  and  can't  talk  to  men.  Wish  it  would 
talk  to  my  pony  and  tell  him  where  we'd  best  try 
and  circumvent  this  spur." 

He  pushed  onward,  however,  until  the  sun  went 
down,  and  he  found  a  spring  of  water,  as  if  he  had 
a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  the  means  of  finding 
his  own  way  which  were  his  birthright  as  a  human 
being. 

Alone,  with  enemies  behind  him,  if  not  before ; 
with  a  great  and  terrible  wilderness  to  cross ; 
mountains,  deserts,  heat,  hunger,  thirst,  fatigue,  all 
possible  perils  to  be  overcome.  And  yet  the  veteran 
explorer  did  not  lie  awake  an  hour  thinking  about 
them.  They  were  to  be  met  in  their  turn,  as  they 
should  come,  not  sooner,  and  the  present  demand 
upon  his  resources  was  met  as  accurately  as  a  bank 
teller  would  have  paid  a  recognized  check.  Not  a 
fraction  more  or  less,  and  not  a  thought  given  to 
the  possible  face  of  the  next  draft  to  come.  Suffi- 
cient unto  the  day  had  been  the  evil  thereof,  and 
the  night  was  meant  for  rest,  even  to  a  man  whom 
the  Apaches  had  so  nearly  driven  over  a  precipice. 

If  he  could  but  have  known,  for  his  comfort,  that 
his  old  friend  Oliver  had  also  overcome  the  difficul- 
ties of  his  situation ! 

And  Oliver  had  certainly  done  so,  and  he  availed 


156  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

himself   to   the    uttermost    of   a   night    of    safety. 

Not  a  coyote  barked  in  his  hearing,  during  all  the 
slumberous  hours,  and  when  the  sun  again  looked 
in  upon  him  he  was  the  first  animal  in  that  corral 
to  mention  the  matter. 

Any  mule  can  bray,  but  there's  as  much  odds  in 
mules  as  in  the  traditional  Connecticut  deacons. 

Oliver  was  not  one  of  the  smaller  representatives 
of  his  kind,  for  his  father  had  come  from  Spain  and 
his  mother  had  pulled  a  dray  in  her  time. 

From  the  latter  he  had  inherited  his  bone  and 
muscle,  and,  perhaps,  his  capacity  for  straight  kick- 
ing, but  from  the  former  all  the  sonorous  echoes  of 
the  Andalusian  hills  had  come  down  to  him, 

At  least,  that  camp  of  Apaches  had  never  listened 
to  such  a  reverberating  reveille  as  rang  among  their 
scattered  lodges  within  five  minutes  of  the  time 

o 

when  Oliver  decided  that  he  did  not  care  to  have 
another  nap  before  breakfast. 

The  effect  was  electric,  so  to  speak,  and  one  too- 
ready  brave  found  himself  mounted  on  his  pony, 
with  a  whoop  half-way  up  his  larynx,  before  he  dis- 
covered the  meaning  of  the  strange  alarm. 

Then  he  also  discovered  that  his  pony  was  yet 
tethered,  and  that  the  bow  in  his  hard  would  be  of 
no  manner  of  use  until  he  should  fit  a  string  to  it. 
So  he  dismounted  and  proceeded  to  give  one  of  his 
squaws  the  beating  required  to  keep  her  in  good 
condition. 


A  CCEP  TING  THE  SITU  A  TION.  1 57 

A  grand  bray  was  that,  and  a  proud  Indian  was 
the  Big  Medicine  when  he  listened  to  it,  but  some 
of  the  sager  counsellors  of  the  band  shook  their 
heads  doubtfully. 

What  if  that  clarion  should  ever  be  sounded  at 
the  wrong  time  ? 

There  was  danger  in  it. 

Still,  a  question  of  the  sort  could  well  be  left  to 
that  indefinite  future  which  contains  the  solution 
of  so  many  other  important  problems. 

What  would  the  world  do  if  it  were  compelled  to 
settle  all  its  mules  the  first  time  it  heard  them 
bray? 

There  is  nothing  more  peaceful  than  an  Indian 
hunting  camp,  with  braves  enough  to  kill  the  game, 
and  squaws  enough  to  do  all  the  hard  work  after- 
wards. The  natural  relations  of  the  sexes  are  no- 
where else  presented  in  so  striking  and  picturesque 
a  light.  What  is  called  the  "  Chivalry  of  the  Middle 
Ages,"  the  barbaric  era  of  our  own  tribes,  can  no- 
where else  receive  so  complete  an  illustration. 

The  Big  Medicine  was  not  disposed  to  do  much 
hunting,  and  when  he  did  go  forth  he  preferred 
some  other  bearer  than  Oliver.  It  would  hardly 
have  answered  to  be  sat  down  with  in  the  middle  of 
a  drove  of  bisons. 

Besides,  before  the  next  sunset,  the  band  of  young 
braves  which  had  followed  the  trail  of  Dr.  Milyng 
returned  with  a  full  report  of  their  doings  and  ob- 


1 5  8  THE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

serrations,  and  the  Big  Medicine  was,  thereupon, 
restored  to  all,  and  more  than  all  he  had  lost  in  the 
reverence  of  his  fellows. 

He  on  his  part  was  prepared  to  take  the  entire 
credit  of  what  had  happened,  as  fully  as  if  he  had  him- 
self driven  the  hapless  drove  of  bisons  through  that 
pass  and  over  the  precipice,  and  had  now  induced 
Dr.  Milyng  to  follow  their  example.  He  was  not 
the  man  to  hinder  the  faith  of  the  wavering  by  any 
false  modesty,  and  he  was  altogether  ready  to  smoke 
himself  into  another  dream,  while  the  men  he 
smoked  for.  galloped  around  the  grass  and  killed  his 
meat  for  him. 

What  could  civilization  have  done  for  such  a 
man  D  Nothing,  now  all  the  sheepskins  are  used  up. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

DISCOVERY    OF     A    HOUSEHOLD    TREASURE — CON- 
FLICTING VIEWS  CONCERNING  A  LOST  SHEEP. 

THE  failure  of  the  old  firm  of  Boyce,  Millington 
&  Co.  surprised  some  .people  more  than  it  did 
others,  but  there  were  a  good  many  to  whom  it  was 
a  severe  as  well  as  a  sudden  blow.  The  business 
had  been  a  large  one,  and  time  had  been  when  few 
houses  stood  higher  or  had  better  connections,  at 
home  and  abroad. 

The  downfall  was  every  way  as  complete  as  Mr. 
Brown  had  intimated  to  Mabel  Varick,  but  he  did 
not  figure  in  the  long  list  of  creditors.  His  own 
private  counsel,  however,  speedily  made  his  appear- 
ance as  the  especial  representative  of  the  widow 
Boyce,  and  all  concerned  were  free  to  admit  that 
her  interests  needed  looking  after. 

There  were  even  a  good  many  expressions  of 
sympathy,  as  of  right  there  should  have  been,  for 
a  lady  of  her  social  standing  and  accustomed  sur- 
roundings, so  hopelessly  reduced  to  penury. 

Of  course  she  was  an  innocent  party,  and  nothing 

159 


l6o  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

could  have  been  more  satisfactory  than  the  manner 
in  which  she  surrendered  every  atom  of  property  in 
her  possession  to  the  assignee.  She  even  offered 
to  submit  her  neatly  kept  housekeeping  books  of 
account,  but  an  examination  of  these  was  gallantly 
and  considerately  waived  by  the  gentlemen  creditors 
of  the  ruined  firm. 

She  was  also  permitted,  by  an  unanimous  vote, 
to  keep  and  reserve  from  her  household  effects— 
the  property  of  her  late  husband — a  good  many 
articles  which  would  not  have  brought  any  consid- 
erable sum  at  auction,  but  which,  it  was  surmised, 
might  afterwards  be  of  use  to  her,  or  might  have 
some  special  value  from  association. 

Mr.  Brown's  attorney  took  care  of  all  that,  and 
Mrs.  Boyce  herself  attended  to  the  selection  and 
removal  of  the  list  of  articles  specified. 

You  can  always  squeeze  one  more  paper  under 
an  india-rubber  band,  particularly  when  you  have 
only  one  band  and  there  are  a  good  many  papers 
lying  around  loose. 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Boyce  was  a  lady  of  the  high- 
est moral  character  and  the  strictest  integrity.  The 
auctioneer  testified  to  that  when  he  came,  after- 
wards, to  make  the  sale,  and  found  not  a  single  ar- 
ticle missing  which  was  called  for  by  his  schedule, 
and  all  things  in  excellent  condition  and  order. 

The  schedule  was  copied  from  a  list  furnished 
the  assignee  by  Mrs.  Boyce  herself,  and  must  there- 


A  TREASURE  AND  A  LOST  SHEEP.  161 

fore  Have  been  absolutely  correct,  but  the  auc- 
tioneer did  not  know  all  that. 

The  bankrupt  widow  went  home  with  Mabel 
Varick,  that  first  night,  and  not  only  Mabel  but 
her  uncle  were  compelled  to  admiration  of  the  even- 
tempered  fortitude  displayed  by  their  unfortunate 
guest. 

Mabel  began  to  speak  of  it,  but  was  interrupted 
with: 

"  Now,  my  dear,  I  did  not  come  here  to  bring  a 
cloud  with  me.  I  certainly  have  not  lost  every- 
thing when  such  a  home  as  this  opens  its  doors  to 
receive  me.  I  do  not  propose  that  my  own  life 
shall  be  soured  and  spoiled,  and  I  won't  be  mean 
and  selfish  enough  to  make  my  friends  uncomforta- 
ble." 

The  look  Mr.  Brown  shot  at  his  niece,  across  the 
breakfast-table,  at  the  end  of  Mrs.  Boyce's  remarks, 
was  as  much  as  to  say : 

"  There,  my  dear,  there's  a  lesson  for  you.  If 
ever  you  lose  your  husband  and  your  property,  re- 
member that." 

And  he  might  have  added,  if  he  had  known 
everything : 

"  There's  nothing  will  help  you  do  it  well,  like 
about  two  years  of  getting  ready.  You  won't  mind 
it  more  than  an  old  tombstone,  after  two  years' 
daily  contemplation." 

Wise  people  do  not  show  how  much  they  really 


1 62  THE  HEART  OF  2 T. 

mind  their  tribulations,  and  Mrs.  Boyce  dropped 
into  her  niche  in  the  household  organism  as  per- 
fectly as  if  it  had  been  fitted  to  her  by  her  Q\VII 
dressmaker.  In  less  than  a  week  it  began  to  seem 
as  if  there  must  have  been  something  lacking  in 
that  establishment  before  the  widow  came,  and 
surely  would  be  if  she  should  take  it  into  her  head 
to  go  away.  This,  too,  in  the  very  heat  and  worry 
of  her  own  affairs,  and  when  she  was  by  no  means 
neglecting  them.  She  had  studied  the  campaign 
she  was  now  fighting,  and  the  ground  on  which  her 
forces  were  moving  was  tolerably  well  known  to 
her. 

That  she  was  an  accomplished  woman,  well  edu- 
cated and  well  read,  Avas  an  understood  thing,  al- 
though she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  forcing  her 
strong  points  on  the  attention  of  other  people,  but 
who  would  have  expected  her  to  possess  so  intimate 
an  acquaintance  with  technical  geology  and  miner- 
alogy? 

Not  Mr.  Daniel  Brown,  surely,  and  all  the  greater 
was  his  astonishment  at  the  critical  examination 
she  gave,  a  few  evenings  after  her  arrival,  to  his 
tray  full  of  specimens. 

"I've  a  bag  of  them  at  the  office,"  he  remarked, 
after  asking  a  good  many  questions  which  he  him- 
self could  not  have  answered.  "I'll  have  them 
sent  up  to-morrow.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  some- 
thing about  them." 


A  TREASURE  AND  A  LOST  SHEEP.     163 

"  Indeed,  I  may  not.  But  I've  paid  pretty  dearly 
for  what  little  I  know.  Or  others  have  for  me.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  if  my  advice  had 
been  taken,  long  ago,  there  would  be  fewer  worth- 
less mining  shares  among  the  assets  of  the 
firm." 

"You  disapprove  of  mining  speculation,  then?" 

"  Decidedly,  Mr.  Brown.  I  am  opposed  to  all 
gambling.  But  even  gold  mining  need  not  be 
speculation." 

"  I  understand  you,  I  think.  Well,  I've  no  no- 
tion of  speculating,  or  of  getting  up  bubble  com- 
panies, but  then  a  really  good  mine — " 

"If  you  can  find  one?" 

"  I  could  never  find  one  for  myself,  but  I  know 
a  man  who  can," 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  That's  what  I'm  hoping  to  learn  before  long. 
He  will  turn  up,  one  of  these  days,  with  a  whole 
pocket  full  of  mines." 

"Better  than  these,  I  hope,  then.  And  yet 
some  of  them  are  quite  promising." 

"  You  shall  see  the  rest.  I  am  in  no  manner  of 
hurry  about  it.  You  have  already  earned  a  fee  as 
an  expert." 

"  Have  I?  That  is  splendid.  Please  let  me  earn 
as  many  as  you  can." 

And  Mr.  Brown's  keen  senses  recognized  the 
laudable  feeling  of  independence,  and  the  desire  to 


164  THE  HE  ART  OF  IT. 

return  a  compensation  for  favors,  which  underlay 
the  widow's  request. 

"  She  is  a  good  deal  more  than  earning  her 
board,"  he  thought.  u  She  will  be  invaluable  com- 
pany for  Mabel.  Stir  her  mind  up.  I'm  half  glad 
the  firm  failed,  for  our  sakes." 

But  Mrs.  Boyce  and  her  troubles  and  accom- 
plishments were  not  the  only  matters  of  importance 
which  pressed  upon  the  mind  of  the  merchant  dur- 
ing those  next  few  days. 

He  was  alone  in  his  office,  about  noon  of  the 
second,  when  a  gentleman  entered  who  had  not 
taken  the  pains  to  send  a  card  of  announcement 
before  him. 

"Brother  Dillaye?  I  had  been  both  hoping  and 
fearing  to  see  you.  Have  you  any  news  of  poor 
Carrie?" 

The  visitor  was  a  man  of  medium  height,  slender, 
well-proportioned,  admirably  well  dressed,  and  did 
not  seem  to  be  above  fifty  years  of  age.  His  clean 
shaven  face  was  almost  cadaverous  in  its  thinness, 
and  its  hard,  resolute,  haughty  lines,  revealed  them- 
selves with  singular  distinctness  as  he  replied,  in  a 
steady,  modulated  voice  : 

"  Nothing,  Brother  Brown.  I  doubt  if  we  ever 
shall.  To  you,  as  a  near  connection,  I  am  willing 
to  say,  I  hope  we  never  may." 

"Mr.  Dillaye?" 

"  I  mean  it.     This  is  the  last  drop  in  the  cup  of 


A  TREASURE  AND  A  LOST  SHEEP.  165 

our  disgrace.  If  I  should  find  her,  I  could  not  take 
her  back  again." 

•"  But  what  would  you  do?" 

"I  cannot  say,  just  now.  An  asylum  might  an- 
swer, if  far  enough  away,  or  if  I  could  make  it  per- 
petual. My  own  house,  never." 

"What,  not  if  you  found  her?  Would  you  steel 
your  heart  against  her  misfortune  ?  It  is  not  her 
fault." 

"How  do  you  know  that?  Who  made  you  a 
judge  between  me  and  my  daughter?" 

"  Who  made  you  a  judge  between  her  and  God  ?" 

"  She  is  my  daughter." 

"  And  He  is  her  Father,  a  good  deal  more  cer- 
tainly than  He  is  yours,  just  now." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  be  dictated  to,  Brother 
Brown." 

u  I'm  very  much  in  the  habit  of  saying  what  I 
think,  Mr.  Dillaye.  I  wonder  how  much  real  search 
you've  had  made  for  her." 

"  Good-morning,  Brother  Brown.  I  think  I  may 
as  well  go.  I  can  manage  my  family  affairs  without 
your  help,  I  think." 

"  Good-morning,  then,  but  I  may  as  well  say  that 
the  daughter  of  my  wife's  sister  will  not  be  sent  to 
an  asylum,  if  I  find  her,  you  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding." 

Curiously  stiff  and  dignified  had  been  the  brief, 
formal  exchange  of  views,  as  became  men  of  their 


1 66  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

age  and  standing,  who  were  family  connections  and 
officers  of  the  same  church,  but  it  needed  no  special 
acumen  to  discern  that  there  was  small  love  lost 
between  them,  and  that  no  very  tender  ties  were 
severed  when  Mr.  Dillaye  so  politely  marched  through 
the  office  doorway. 

"  The  old  flint,"  exclaimed  the  merchant,  a  mo- 
ment later.  "  I  hope  I  do  him  no  injustice,  but  I'd 
like  to  know  in  what  shape  her  mother's  property 
is.  I'll  see,  before  many  days.  It's  my  turn  to 
hunt  for  Carrie,  now.  I  ought  to  have  seen  him 
before.  But  then  I've  been  so  busy,  and  he  and  I 
never  did  hitch  teams.  I'm  glad  it  happened  in  my 
office  rather  than  his.  He  can't  say  I  interfered 
without  a  reason.  I  wouldn't  like  to  stand  in  his 
shoes  when  God  asks  him  what  has  become  of  his 
daughter.  No,  nor  some  other  questions,  either. 
Cain's  case  was  nothing  to  it." 

Mr.  Brown's  color  had  been  improving,  from  the 
moment  of  Mr.  Dillaye's  entrance,  and  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  red  in  it  when  he  came  to  the  mention 
of  Cain. 

It  was  not  the  first  time,  by  many,  that  he  had 
found  himself  called  upon  to  criticise  the  exceed- 
ingly correct  and  respectable  gentleman  who  had 
been  his  wife's  sister's  husband,  and  the  blood  may 
have  been  all  ready  to  rise  at  the  word. 

Nothing  was  said  about  that  interview  in  the 
home  circle,  not  even  to  Mabel  Varick,  for  it  might 


A  TREASURE  AND  A  LOST  SHEEP.  \6j 

well  be  that  no  news  of  Carrie  would  come,  but 
there  was  as  little  sleep  on  the  merchant's  pillow, 
that  night,  as  if  he  had  been  listening  for  the  voice 
of  Prince  to  announce  another  pair  of  burglars. 

The  third  day  passed  without  any  special  excite- 
ment, except  a  conference  or  two  with  sharp-eyed 
gentlemen  whom  nobody  knew,  but  who,  neverthe- 
less, knew  a  great  many  other  people.  The  detec- 
tives were  set  at  work  with  a  vision  of  good  pay 
before  them,  and  there  was  no  telling  what  they 
might  do. 

On  the  following  morning,  before  Mr.  Brown  left 
his  house,  the  postman  deposited  at  the  door,  among 
other  things,  a  small,  yellow  envelope,  which  looked 
as  if  it  might  have  been  constructed  for  the  purpose 
of  containing  "  powders"  of  some  sort. 

It  was  addressed  to  the  merchant  himself,  and  he 
carelessly  opened  it,  as  a  man  will  to  whom  many 
envelopes  come,  from  day  to  day. 

"  Mabel!     Mrs.  Boyce!" 

The  exclamation  was  so  sharply  sudden  that  even 
the  widow  came  very  near  upsetting  her  coffee,  and 
Mabel  arose  from  her  seat. 

"  After  breakfast,  please,"  he  added,  in  a  calmer 
tone,  "  I  will  see  you  in  the  library." 

"Mabel,  your  uncle  means  you." 

"  Both  of  you.  I  may  need  your  adv?ce,  Mrs. 
Boyce." 

It  was  well  the  postman  did  not  reach  that  dis- 


1 68  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

tant  part  of  his  route  too  early,  or  that  breakfast 
would  not  have  amounted  to  much.  As  it  was,  so 
little  of  it  remained  to  be  eaten  that  its  neglect  was 
of  small  consequence.  They  were  all  the  sooner  in 
the  library. 

"It's  all  in  a  word,"  said  Mr.  Brown.  "Carrie 
Dillaye  is  in  the  hospital  on  the  Island,  and  we 
must  get  her  out." 

"On  the  Island,  uncle?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brown  !" 

"  I'll  see  my  lawyer,  at  once.  Get  ready,  both  of 
you.  I'll  order  the  carriage.  Here's  a  matter,  in- 
deed. We  must  observe  the  most  utter  secresy. 
Not  even  her  father  must  know  a  word  of  it  till 
she's  safe  under  our  own  roof." 

"  Not  even  her  father,  uncle?" 

"  No,  and  I'll  tell  you  why,  as  we  drive  along. 
Mrs.  Boyce,  your  aid  and  counsel  will  be  invalua- 
ble. I'm  not  afraid  to  trust  you  with  a  family 
secret." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Brown—" 

"  Haste,  now — it  seems  as  if  every  minute  were  a 
week.  Her  own  sister's  child.  Poor  Carrie.  And 
yet,  there's  no  name  signed  to  the  letter.  I  can't 
understand  it.  There's  something  under  it  all." 

No  doubt.  There  always  is.  But  Mr.  Brown's 
legal  adviser  was  just  the  man  to  prevent  that  some- 
thing from  being  made  in  any  manner  unpleasantly 
public.  What  wires  there  were,  he  knew. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  THROUGH  TRAIN  AND  ALL  THROUGH  A  NIGHT. 

BESSIE  HERON  reached  the  end  of  her  journey 
in  perfect  safety.  There  had  been,  from  the 
word  "all  aboard,"  something  almost  orthodox, 
whatever  that  may  be,  in  the  behavior  of  that 
train  of  cars,  and  Bessie  felt  that  they  were  all  do- 
ing their  duty  by  her.  Not  a  connection  was  missed, 
not  a  violation  of  the  time-table  occurred.  If  the 
latter  had  been  a  creed,  settled  by  a  majority  in  a 
"  council,"  it  could  not  have  been  more  conscien- 
tiously adhered  to. 

And  yet,  not  one  of  the  benighted  servants  of 
the  several  railways  the  train  passed  over  had  a 
glimmer  of  an  idea  that  all  this  was  by  reason  of 
having  for  a  passenger  a  young  lady  of  such  a  high 
moral  character  and  such  exceptional  deserts. 

Bessie  knew  it,  however.  She  had  often  noted 
similar  things  before,  concerning  cars  and  steamers 
and  such  things,  when  she  was  on  board,  and  it  was 
a  great  comfort,  especially  when  members  of  her 

169 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

own  family,  not  to  speak  of  short-sighted  members 
of  the  same  church,  failed  to  appreciate  her. 

Nor  is  there  any  call  for  a  laugh  at  Bessie's  ex- 
pense, just  there. 

The  prevailing  notion  among  too  large  a  section 
of  that  part  of  humanity  which  assumes  to  be  "  good" 
is  that  God's  providence,  though  generally  correct, 
within  limits,  in  its  management  of  other  people,  is 
decidedly  out,  so  far  as  they  are  concerned.  Whether 
wilfully  so  or  ignorantly,  they  are  not  always  care- 
ful to  state,  but  of  their  convictions  in  the  premises 
there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt.  One  of  these 
days  there  will  be  a  reckoning,  they  plainly  intimate, 
and  even  if  they  shall  then  refuse  to  accept  an 
apology  they  will  get  their  back  pay  with  interest. 

Not  so  much  as  an  adventure  came  to  relieve  the 
monotony  of  the  long  ride,  until  the  afternoon  of 
the  second  day,  and  Bessie  had  an  ample  opportu- 
nity for  an  historical  review  of  her  career  as  well  as 
a  prophetic  summary  of  her  future. 

The  past  and  the  present  could  be  summed  up  in 
one  word. 

They  were  in  every  respect  and  altogether  "  in- 
adequate," and  they  had  been  made  so  by  the 
lamentable  short-comings  of  those  who,  if  they  had 
no  regard  for  themselves,  might  at  least  have  re- 
membered, having  been  born  under  the  same  roof, 
what  a  treasure  had  been  committed  to  their  guar- 
dianship. 


A  THRO  UGH  TRAIN'.  !  7  x 

Where  would  she  have  laid  the  blame  if  Fred 
Heron  and  a  few  others  had  been  drowned,  or 
something,  when  she  was  yet  in  her  teens? 

Some  people's  relatives  do  get  drowned  early — . 
but  then  the  question  of  relative  "  goodness"  remains 
to  be  settled,  after  all,  and  the  argument  amounts 
to  nothing. 

But  that  second  afternoon  was  fruitful  of  one 
break  to  the  prolonged  dulness,  and  it  came  in  the 
shape  of  a  young  man  in  spectacles  and  a  white 
necktie. 

He  could  hardly  have  told,  without  help  from 
Bessie,  just  how  it  was  he  came  to  be  seated  oppo- 
site her,  carrying  on  so  delightful  and  improving  a 
conversation.  The  names  of  mutual  friends  and 
acquaintances  had  fluttered  to  the  surface,  one  after 
another,  till  he  found  his  soul  divided  between  a 
wonder  as  to  who  his  fellow-traveller  could  be,  and 
whether  or  no  his  collar  were  too  disgracefully 
wilted. 

He  would  have  given  a  new  pair  of  gloves  to 
have  known  if  there  were  any  cinders  on  his 
face. 

And  yet  he  need  not,  for  Bessie  Heron  would 
unquestionably  have  told  him,  if  there  had  been. 

Duties  of  that  kind,  whether  of  a  spiritual  or 
material  nature,  she  never  under  any  circumstances 
neglected. 

But  then  he  did  not  know  Bessie  Heron.,. 


1 72 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


"  May  I  ask  if  you  are  settled  over  a  church?" 
she  inquired,  at  last. 

"  Settled?  Church?"  he  stammered,  with  a  per- 
ceptible wilt  now  in  his  shirt-collar.  "  I'm  not  in 
the  ministry,  I'm  in  the  grain  trade.  The  one  thing 
that  troubles  me  about  it  is  that  our  house  some- 
times takes  a  turn  in  whiskey.  I  don't  mind  pork, 
though  I  once  had  quite  a  prejudice  about  that — 

"  Not  in  the  ministry  ?"  exclaimed  Bessie.  "  Well, 
now  !  I  felt  sure  of  it.  Have  you  not  mistaken  your 
vocation?" 

"  Perhaps  I  have,  but  it  isn't  always  easy  to  tell, 
you  know.  I  was  unfortunate  at  college — ' 

"Tickets,  please,"  interjected  the  conductor,  and 
Bessie  was  doomed  to  hear  no  more,  just  then,  of 
the  course  of  events  which  had  perverted  the  career 
of  her  railway  acquaintance.  She  said  to  herself, 
however: 

"Well,  if  he  is  not  a  minister  he  looks  like  one. 
What  business  has  he  to  dress  in  that  way,  white 
tie  and  all  ?  It's  an  imposition." 

So  it  was.     All  that  sort  of  thing  is. 

There  were  reasons  for  doubting,  however,  if 
Bessie  would  have  received  a  correct  account  of  the 
college  misfortunes  so  vaguely  referred  to.  They 
probably  amounted,  at  the  uttermost,  to  some 
stupid  blunder  or  gross  injustice  on  the  part  of  a 
narrow-minded  and  misguided  "  faculty."  Our  in- 
stitutions of  learning  rarely  know  what  they  are 


A  THRO  UGH  TRAIN.  173 

about,  but  now  and  then  they  do  a  good  thing  for 
the  grain  trade,  and  other  lines  of  commerce  and 
industry. 

Bessie  Heron  reached  her  journey's  end  in  safety, 
and  was  most  hospitably  received,  in  accordance 
with  the  invitation  she  had  applied  for,  but  all  that 
while,  Fred  had  been  devoting  himself  to  his  duties 
as  hospital  assistant's  assistant,  over  there  on  the 
Island. 

A  very  unsatisfactory  way  for  a  man  to  spend 
his  precious  time,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  not  at  all  a 
bad  thing  for  the  crowded  and  half-cared  for  in- 
valids, for  Fred  continued  to  take  hold  with  a  sin- 
gular and  most  unselfish  energy. 

It  did  not  seem  to  matter  to  him  whether  he 
were  sick  or  well,  although  the  effects  of  his  inter- 
ference with  the  roundsman's  club  had  not  by  any 
means  departed. 

"  Let  her  ache,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  he 
passed  from  one  cot  to  another.  "  There  don't 
seem  to  be  any  chance  here  for  the  little  ones  that 
fellow  spoke  of,  unless  they're  too  small  to  be  seen, 
but  I  may  as  well  take  my  chances  for  these  sixty 
days.  They  won't  be  so  long,  anyhow." 

Dreadfully  long  they  were,  nevertheless,  and 
Fred  had  that  within  him  which  made  them  longer. 
It  was  not  so  hard,  nearly,  when  he  was  on  duty, 
and  as  busy  as  a  lobby  member  in  the  last  week  of 
a  "long  session,"  but  the  tug  came  during  the  in- 


174 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


terminable  hours  when  he  was  supposed  to  be 
asleep. 

It  was  never  entirely  dark  in  the  great  room, 
but,  at  times,  there  was  just  light  enough  left  to 
see  all  the  shapes  that  were  not  there. 

A  strange  population  is  that,  in  any  room.  For 
instance,  in  a  church  while  funeral  services  are  go- 
ing on,  and  the  handkerchiefs  pressed  hard  against 
aching  eyes  prevent  the  use  of  any  but  interior 
sight. 

Fred  Heron  knew  all  about  that,  and  some  such 
experiences  came  back  to  him,  while  he  lay  there. 
Particularly  one,  where  the  sweetfaced  woman  in 
the  coffin,  before  the  pulpit,  yonder,  wore  a  smile 
on  her  dead  lips.  They  had  always  worn  a  smile 
for  him,  so  long  as  the  soul  was  in  them,  from  the 
earliest  day  he  could  remember.  He  hoped  nobody 
would  tell  her  where  he  was  now,  or,  if  they  did, 
they  would  explain  how  he  came  there. 

He  could  remember  once,  when  he  was  a  little 
fellow,  coming  home  with  blackened  eyes  and  a 
bloody  nose  from  a  fight  he  had  in  defending  a 
cripple,  and  his  mother  hugged  him  instead  of 
scolding  him. 

"  I'd  as  lief  as  not  tell  her  all  about  it,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  She  was  an  angel,  then,  and  she 
must  feel  a  good  deal  the  same  way  now,  about 
some  things.  I'd  tell  her,  anyhow.  But  how  queer 
all  the  cots  look,  with  the  sick  folk  in  them.  And 


A  HOSPITAL  TWILIGHT.  ^5 

every  body  of  them  has  a  soul  in  it,  they  say,  only 
no  one  seems  able  to  explain  what  they  mean  by 
a  soul.  Suppose,  now,  some  of  these  fellows 
haven't  any  ?  I've  got  one,  I  know  that.  I  can 
feel  it,  now,  as  I  lie  here.  That  isn't  correct, 
either.  I  don't  mean  I  have  one.  I  mean  I  am 
one." 

And  as  that  thought  took  possession  of  him,  he' 
seemed  to  become  a  little  more  the  master  of  his 
vulture-like  internal  craving,  but  the  shadowy  area 
around  and  above  him  was  less  and  less  of  a 
solitude. 

Physicians  who  have  studied  the  effects  of  vari- 
ous narcotics  tell  strange  stories  of  their  observa- 
tions. Things  incredible,  but  for  the  high  charac- 
ter and  pure  motives  of  the  narrators,  and  for  the 
scientific  bearing  of  the  data  so  gathered.  The 
longer  Fred  Heron  lay  and  looked,  that  night,  the 
more  distinctly  he  seemed  to  see,  although  not  a 
solitary  gas-jet  was  increased  above  the  dull  blue 
glimmer  of  the  midnight  watch. 

At  last  his  attention  seemed  to  concentrate  it- 
self, without  any  will  of  his,  upon  a  narrow  bed,  at 
some  little  distance,  where  lay  a  prisoner  whose  ex- 
act condition  and  requirements  had  been  a  puzzle 
to  the  hospital  authorities. 

"  He  could  not  move  an  inch  when  I  left  him. 
Was  he  shamming?  He  seems  to  be  rising,  now. 
Delirious?  No,  he  had  no  fever.  And  how  comes 


1 76  TPIE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

it  that  he's  all  dressed ?  What's  that?  A  Prussian 
army  uniform !  Where  did  he  get  it,  and  all  those 
medals  and  decorations?  Standing  on  the  cot 
and  looking  down  at  it,  I  declare.  Where's  the 
man  on  duty.  If  he  can't  keep  a  better  lookout, 
I'll  attend  to  it  myself.  Hallo,  where's  he 
gone?" 

Fred  was  on  his  feet,  now,  but  all  things  around 
him  were  in  so  deep  a  shadow  that,  but  for  the 
whiteness  of  the  couches,  he  could  hardly  have 
made  his  way  among  them. 

He  did,  however,  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  and 
with  a  feeling  creeping  over  him  which  he  did  not 
remember  to  have  had  before. 

It  was  nearly  half  a  minute  until  he  stood  by  that 
particular  cot. 

There  was  a  head  on  the  pillow,  a  massive,  well- 
made  head,  such  as  belongs  to  a  grand  physique, 
but  Fred  half  doubted  if  there  were  any  body  for 
it,  under  the  coverlet. 

So  he  slipped  his  hand  under  the  bed  clothes  and 
passed  it  across  -the  iron  ribs  of  the  body  till  it 
stopped,  suddenly,  of  itself.  It  was  just  over  the 
heart,  and  there  was  no  need  for  it  to  go  any 
further. 

The  broad  chest  had  forever  ceased  to  rise  and  fall, 
and  the  heart  to  beat. 

Fred  withdrew  his  hand  and  walked  softly  to  the 
other  end  of  the  ward. 


A  HOSPITAL  TWILIGHT. 

In  a  few  minutes  afterwards  a  rough  voice 
aroused  the  surgeon  in  charge. 

"  No.  i8's  dead,  sir." 

"Dead?     When  did  he  die?" 

"  Just  now,  sir,  all  of  a  sudden,  like." 

"  Heart  disease,  eh?  I  thought  so,  this  afternoon. 
I'll  be  there  in  a  minute."  And  then,  as  he  slowly 
arose,  he  added :  "  Dead.  Well,  there  are  those 
who  will  be  sorry,  and  those  who  will  be  glad.  For 
once  the  extradition  treaty  has  been  fairly  beaten. 
But  I'll  have  a  report  to  make,  and  there'll  be  no 
end  of  bother." 

Fred  Heron  had  done  his  duty,  and,  somehow, 
when  he  returned  to  his  own  couch,  he  speedily 
fell  fast  asleep,  and  not  so  much  as  a  dream  dis- 
turbed him  till  morning. 

He  needed  all  the  rest  he  could  get,  and  Miller 
had  to  shake  him  more  than  once  before  he  could 
be  made  to  understand  that  he  was  "a  man  under 
authority,"  from  whom  obedience  and  prompt  ser- 
vice were  required  by  those  into  whose  hands  he 
had  fallen. 

"Another  day?"  he  said.  "Well,  and  then  I 
suppose  there  will  be  another  night  to  follow  it." 

Day  it  was,  but  all  the  sunlight  of  it  failed  to 
make  clear  for  him  his  experience  of  the  previous 
night. 

"  What  did  I  see  ?"  He  asked  himself,  again  and 
again.  "  How  do  I  know  I  saw  anything?  Was  it 


178 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


a  ghost?  No,  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts.  Besides,  I 
know  what's  the  matter  with  me.  It  isn't  as  if  my 
brain  and  nerves  were  in  good  order.  I  saw  a  good 
many  other  things  I  know  were  not  there.  He 
wasn't  there,  either.  But  that's  the  very  thing  that 
puzzles  me.  He  was  dead.  And  what's  that,  I'd 
likexto  know?  Pity  I  can't  ask  some  such  man  as 
Tyndall,  now,  or  Huxley,  and  have  it  all  explained 
in  a  twinkling.  How  those  fellows  have  delivered 
the  world  from  superstition.  There  isn't  a  grain 
in  me.  I  mean  of  superstition.  No,  nor  of  any- 
thing else,  and  I'm  glad  of  that." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAVELING  EXPENSES  AND  A  VERY  EXPENSIVE 
JOURNEY. 

A  MAN  of  Dr.  Milyng's  experience,  thoroughly 
well  acquainted  with  the  manners  and  customs 
of  mountains,  was  not  likely  to  be  long  in  finding 
his  way  across  any  given  range.  It  was  of  little  use 
for  them,  the  mountains,  to  rise  and  station-them- 
selves  across  his  intended  path,  with  their  elbows 
touching.  He  was  well  aware,  however,  that  the 
force  of  discipline  and  long  habit  would  make  them 
keep  their  ranks  in  that  precise  order,  like  Russian 
infantry,  until  he  should  have  more  than  time  for 
bringing  his  pony  and  its  precious  freight  through 
and  beyond  them. 

There  they  stood,  when  he  reached  the  easterly 
slopes,  only  they  seemed  to  have  faced  about,  and 
to  be  frowning  down  upon  him,  as  if  they  would 
have  said : 

"  You  have  done  it.  We  are  not  unwilling.  But 
here  we  stand,  now,  between  you  and  your  wonder- 

179 


ISO  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

ful  mine.  You  will  never  repass  us,  and  beyond 
you  are  the  deserts." 

A  good  distance  beyond  him,  as  yet,  and  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  was  rich  in  pasture-valleys  where 
the  abundance  of  game  suggested  the  propriety  of 
laying  in  an  ample  supply  of  "jerked  meat,"  before 
he  struck  out  into  the  arid  solitudes  beyond.  Nor 
was  he  the  man  to  disregard  so  plain  a  dictate  of 
prudence. 

Of  course,  the  hunting  and  the  other  operations 
consumed  time,  days  and  days  of  it,  but  there  was 
no  help  for  it,  and  the  doctor's  solitary  explorations, 
in  the  performance  of  his  duties,  brought  him  some- 
thing more  than  dried  venison. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  load  myself  down  with  it,"  he 
said,  after  a  hard  day's  work  in  the  bottom  of  a 
sandy  ravine,  "but  some  of  the  pockets  are  first 
rate,  and  I'll  need  a  little  ready  money  when  I  get 
to  the  settlements.  It  can't  be  there  are  many 
placers,  here  away,  but  this  is  a  good  one.  There's 
pay-dirt  enough  for  a  season's  work,  with  a  sluice. 
If  I  had  supplies  I'd  stay  here  for  a  month.  It'd  all 
be  so  much  capital  towards  working  the  other  mine." 

That's  the  way  of  it.  All  our  best  windfalls  in 
life  are  apt  to  be  treated  in  precisely  that  way. 
They  are  only  regarded  as  so  much  "  capital  for 
working  that  other  mine."  And,  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  that  other  mine  had  a  great  deal  better  be  left 
un worked,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned. 


A  COSTLY  JOURNEY.  l8l 

But  the  doctor  was  not  now  going  through  his 
first  "  placer"  campaign,  and  his  judgment  as  to  the 
value  of  the  "  claim"  he  had  struck  was  likely  to  be 
correct.  He  would  wash,  therefore,  and  sift,  and 
dig  around,  until  he  had  laid  in  his  expense-money, 
against  his  return  to  civilization,  and  then  he  would 
pack  his  pony  and  move  on.  So  he  did,  and  the 
pony  himself  seemed  to  consider  it  in  the  light  of 
a  desirable  summer  vacation,  and  grew  fat  and  frolic- 
some, up  to  the  very  day  when  he  resumed  his  load. 
Then,  indeed,  he  discovered  that  his  master  had 
not  been  idle,  and  that  provisions  and  other  things 
are  subject  to  the  tyrannical  law  of  gravitation. 

Even  now,  however,  the  doctor  was  in  no  wise 
disposed  to  exhaust  either  himself  or  his  horse  by 
too  long  and  rapid  marches. 

"  We'll  have  to  call  on  all  we've  got  in  us,  by-and- 
by,"  he  remarked,  "and  we  might  as  well  keep  a 
good  stock  on  hand.  Those  two  antelope  skins'll 
hold  water  fairly  well,  now,  but  if  I  take  on  any 
more  load  I'll  use  up  the  pony." 

It  was  now  about  ten  days  since  he  left  the 
mountain  ranges  behind  him,  and,  for  the  last  three, 
the  ravines  in  which  he  found  water  enough  to 
camp  by  had  been  separated  by  long  reaches  of  hot 
desert,  almost  devoid  of  either  vegetable  or  animal 
life.  Still,  he  had  been  able  to  take  very  good  care 
of  his  pony,  and  that  sagacious  animal  had  recipro- 
cated by  a  degree  of  docility  which  might  easily 


1 8  2  THE  HE  A  RT  OF  IT. 

have  been  educated  and  ripened  into  affectionate 
obedience. 

"  Muddy,  but  sweet/'  was  the  doctor's  comment 
upon  what  was  left  of  the  pool  he  was  preparing  to 
leave,  one  of  those  mornings.  "  Reckon  I  might  as 
well  fill  up  my  skins.  There's  no  telling  what  the 
next  drink'll  be  sweetened  with." 

But  the  "next  drink"  did  not  come  in  the  way 
of  that  day's  journeying,  nor  of  the  next,  and  the 
slender  provision  he  had  been  able  to  lay  in  had  to 
be  husbanded  with  the  utmost  care. 

A  man  is  better  than  a  horse,  for  he  can  endure 
thirst  better,  and  the  pony's  wants  were  invariably 
cared  for  before  those  of  his  master.  He  was  per- 
mitted to  avail  himself  of  every  eatable  bunch  of 
grass,  and  every  possible  moment  of  rest,  and  his 
parched  mouth  was  washed  out  with  fluid  for  which 
every  corner  of  the  human  organization  in  charge 
of  him  was  clamoring. 

"  It  isn't  so  much  mercy  as  it  is  selfishness,"  re- 
marked the  doctor.  "  If  I  can  manage  to  keep  him 
on  his  feet  for  twenty-four  hours  more  we're  pretty 
safe  to  strike  water  of  some  kind,  even  at  tl]is 
season." 

Very  possibly  his  four-footed  friend  only  partly 
comprehended  him,  but  he  took  his  allowance,  and 
whinnied  pitifully  for  more.  A  proper  knowledge 
of  his  "  rights"  might  have  induced  the  latter  to 
"strike,"  or  even  to  trample  out  whatever  water 


A  COSTLY  JO  URNE  Y.  183 

was  left  in  the  skin-bottle,  but  he  was  too  much  of 
a  brute  for  any  such  exhibition  of  lower-class  in- 
telligence, and  the  thirsty  march  went  on. 

Towards  the  close  of  that  third  day,  however,  Dr. 
Milyng's  own  eyes  began  to  brighten  over  sundry 
indications  which  he  discerned  in  the  distant  hori- 
zon, and  he  turned  to  say,  in  a  voice  which  was 
husky  with  heat,  fatigue,  and  a  thirst-swollen  tongue  : 

"  One  more  pull,  old  fellow.  It  can't  be  more'n 
fifteen  or  twenty  miles,  now.  We'll  strike  it  before 
midnight." 

But  the  pony  halted  by  the  side  of  a  withered 
sage-bush,  and  stood  panting  with  outstretched 
head,  and  bloodshot  eyes,  in  the  hot  sun. 

"  Come  to  that,  has  it  ?  I've  been  afraid  of  it,  all 
day.  There's  only  one  thing  to  do,  for  I  can't  give 
ye  up." 

Every  ounce  of  load  was  promptly  removed  from 
the  pony  and  stacked  under  the  sage-bush.  The 
end  of  the  long  lariat  was  fastened  to  the  latter. 
And  then  the  last  pint  of  water  was  squeezed  down 
the  throat  of  the  worn-out  pony. 

"  Best  I  can  do,  old  fellow.  If  I  ain't  mistaken 
I'll  be  back  for  ye  before  morning." 

Somewhat  relieved  and  refreshed  although  he 
might  be,  the  hardy  and  faithful  animal  seemed  to 
comprehend  that  he  was  to  be  left  alone,  and  looked 
after  the  retreating  steps  of  his  master  with  a  mourn- 
ful, reproaching  neigh. 


1 84  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  doctor  took  with  him  no  ores,  no  gold,  no 
provisions.  Only  his  weapons  and  one  of  the  ante- 
lope-skin  water-bottles  on  which  he  had  expended 
so  much  tallow  and  ingenuity.  He  had  suffered 
more  than  a  little,  in  that  long  test  of  endurance, 
but  he  strode  away  towards  the  sunrise  with  an 
elasticity  and  rapidity  which  could  hardly  have  been 
expected. 

That  is,  not  from  any  ordinary  man  or  under  any 
ordinary  circumstances,  but  the  doctor  was  no  or- 
dinary man,  and  a  walk  for  life  can  scarcely  be 
termed  an  ordinary  circumstance. 

Mile  after  mile  of  sand  and  gravel,  with  here  and 
there  a  sage-bush  or  a  dismal  acacia,  with  patches 
of  soil  interspersed  that  were  whitened  with  alka- 
line salts,  and  then  the  sun  went  down  behind  him, 
but  still  the  doctor  kept  up  that  steady,  unfalter- 
ing gait. 

The  moon  came  up,  hot  and  red,  and  then  the  doc- 
tor could  not  keep  his  resolute  mouth  shut  any  longer. 
If  he  did  any  soliloquizing  the  sound  of  his  voice 
was  lost  in  the  harsh  rattle  of  his  dry  breath. 

A  tough  pull,  but  he  had  had  precisely  such  an 
experience  before,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  yield, 
for  an  instant,  to  the  manifest  horrors  of  his  situa- 
tion. If  there  was  any  of  the  thing  called  faith  in 
his  mental  operations  it  was  of  that  strong,  uncon- 
scious kind,  which  does  not  throw  its  vitality  away 
on  disabling  doubts. 


A  CO  S  TL  Y  JO  URNE  Y.  185 

Forward,  till  the  moon  was  high  in  heaven,  and 
then,  at  last,  the  doctor  stumbled. 

"  Bunch  grass,  eh  ?"  he  whispered.  "  Now,  that's 
good.  What's  that  ahead  ?" 

He  regained  his  feet,  with  an  effort,  and  pushed 
forward  for  a  couple  of  hundred  yards. 

Willows.  A  clump  of  them.  Sumach  bushes. 
Some  young  cottonwoods.  Short  grass.  A  ravine. 
Tall,  bright,  fresh  blue  grass.  Hurrah,  the  bed  of 
a  water-course,  with  standing  pools  at  intervals ! 
He  knew  that  the  desert,  or  the  worst  of  it,  lay 
behind  him,  and  a  hope  of  life  before. 

He  had  kindled  no  fire  for  days,  and  it  might  be 
dangerous  now,  but  when  he  arose  from  his  first 
long,  delicious  draught  of  that  yellow  water,  there 
stood  before  him,  on  a  knoll  scarce  thirty  paces  dis- 
tant, a  shape  which  brought  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder, 
as  if  without  his  volition. 

"  Splendid  buck,"  he  muttered,  a  moment  later. 
"  I  must  have  a  square  meal  before  I  take  the  back 
track." 

A  fire  was  built,  therefore,  and  the  venison  was 
cooked  and  eaten — all  that  one  man  could  eat.  The 
rest  was  swung  up  to  the  lower  branch  of  a  cotton- 
wood. 

A  long  sleep  now,  as  a  matter  of  course? 

It  would  have  been  for  some  men,  but  Dr.  Milyng 
was  at  work  in  the  blue  grass  with  his  long  knife. 

Men  do  not  eat  grass,  but  he  did  not  rest  until 


!86  THE  HEART  OF  IT, 

he  had  cut  and  tied  up  quite  a  bundle  of  the  forage, 
and  then  he  proceeded  to  fill  his  "  bottle."  A  good 
deal  of  a  load  they  would  make  for  weary  shoulders, 
but  the  bottle  and  the  grass  were  lifted  unflinch- 
ingly, and  once  more  the  man  of  iron  turned  his 
footsteps  westward. 

Slower,  now,  for  he  had  to  follow  the  trail  he  had 
made  and  marked,  and  not  many  white  men  could 
have  done  that,  even  in  broad  daylight. 

To  miss  it  would  be  serious,  indeed,  but  he  had 
no  notion  of  missing  it. 

All  distances  are  longer,  too,  to  a  hungry  and 
thirsty  man,  than  to  the  same  pedestrian  after  a 
hearty  meal.  Even  the  forage  and  the  water  did 
not  cover  the  difference. 

Still,  the  night  was  far  spent  when  the  doctor 
once  more  stood  beside  the  sage-bush  to  which  he 
had  tethered  his  pony. 

"  Not  any  too  soon,"  he  muttered.  "  He's  lying 
down.  I'll  have  to  work  carefully  with  him." 

And  so  he  did,  for  hours. 

Water  and  rubbing.  A  handful  of  grass,  and 
some  more  water.  More  rubbing,  and  then  the 
pony  got  upon  his  feet  and  took  some  more  water. 
Then  he  lay  down  for  awhile  and  considered  the 
matter,  and  seemed  to  think  well  of  it,  for  he  got 
up  again  of  his  own  accord  and  whinnied  for  re- 
freshments. A  careful  process  it  was,  but  by  the 
arrival  of  daylight  the  doctor  declared : 


A  COSTLY  JO  URNE  Y.  1 87 

"  He's  safe  to  stand  it  now,  but  I'll  give  him  a 
day's  rest  when  we  get  there.  He's  a  good  one." 

The  pony  was  compelled  to  resume  his  load,  but 
he  stood  fairly  well  under  it  and  plodded  on  with- 
out a  stagger  until  he  planted  his  own  happy  hoofs 
among  the  blue  grass  at  the  border  of  the  pool  and 
took  a  long,  sweet  draught  in  his  own  way. 

But  the  doctor  made  another  attack  on  the  veni- 
son, and  then  picked  out  a  shady  spot  among  the 
bushes  and  lay  down. 

After  such  a  strain  as  that  had  been,  sleep  had  to 
come,  peril  or  no  peril,  and  for  twelve  long  hours 
the  weary  veteran  was  as  much  at  the  mercy  of  all 
comers  as  if  he  had  taken  a  smoke  with  the  Big 
Medicine  of  the  Apaches.  Even  the  pony's  pre- 
cious burden  lay  unprotected  on  the  grass,  and  that 
hardy  animal  solaced  himself  for  the  trouble  it  had 
caused  him  by  giving  it  as  wide  a  berth  as  possible 
in  his  pasturing.  To  tell  the  truth,  a  civilized 
horse,  unaccustomed  to  that  kind  of  vicissitude, 
would  hardly  have  survived  the  amount  of  feeding 
and  watering  he  did  before  his  master  woke  up. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OUT  OF  THE  ISLAND  BY  ONE  OF  THE  SIDE  DOORS. 

WHEN  Mr.  Daniel  Brown  ordered  his  carnage 
for  that  errand  of  mercy,  with  Mrs.  Boyce 
and  Mabel  Varick  to  bear  him  company,  his  ideas 
of  what  he  had  better  do  in  the  premises  were 
somewhat  vague.  In  fact,  the  more  he  examined 
them,  the  more  dim  and  undecided  was  the  shape 
they  assumed,  and  he  said  so. 

"  But,  Mr.  Brown,"  remarked  the  widow,  "  I 
thought  we  were  to  go  to  your  legal  adviser, 
first?" 

"And  so  we  are." 

"  Well,  won't  he  be  very  likely  to  know  how  it  is 
best  -to  proceed  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  He'll  recommend  something. 
They  always  do.  But  then  we'll  have  to  decide, 
after  all." 

In  any  ordinary  business  matter  Mr.  Brown  was 

188 


THE  SHOR  TEST  WAY  0  U  T.  \  89 

just  the  man  to  disgust  his  "  counsel"  by  deciding 
for  himself,  instead  of  agreeing  with  them,  but  for 
once  he  discovered  that  the  situation  was  master  of 
him. 

A  sharp-eyed,  well-fed,  resolute  little  man,  was 
Mr.  Allyn,  when  he  smiled  around  the  little  circle 
of  his  distinguished  visitors,  that  morning,  and  he 
seemed  to  take  the  deepest  interest  in  the  case 
presented,, but  when  Mr.  Brown  inquired: 

"That's  the  whole  sad  story,  Mr.  Allyn,  how  are 
we  to  get  over  there?"  he  quietly  responded  : 

"  Riotous  and  disorderly  conduct  is  the  surest 
way,  my  dear  sir." 

"  But  we  must  see  her  at  once.  It  isn't  a  matter 
to  be  trifled  with." 

"  Please  do  not  mistake  me,  my  dear  sir,  but  you 
surely  do  not  think  of  going  over,  yourselves,  you 
three  ?" 

"  Certainly.  We  cannot  do  less.  May  I  ask,  why 
not?" 

"  Because  you  would  thereby  defeat  the  very 
object  I  suppose  you  to  have  in  view." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"By,  in  the  first  place,  making  sure  of  the  most 
disagreeable  publicity.  It  would  be  in  all  the 
papers.  In  the  second  place,  I  fear  you  would  pre- 
vent my  securing  Miss  Dillaye's  immediate  release." 

"  I  do  not  see  that.  It's  an  outrage.  A  gross  out- 
rage. I'm  not  without  influence,  Mr.  Allyn — " 


THE  HEAR T  OF  IT. 

"  Can  you  bring  it  to  bear  without  stating  your 
case  to  some  one,  or  perhaps  to  a  number?" 

"  Ah — well — no — I  suppose  not." 

"What  if  I  say  then,  that  no  sort  of  influence, 
such  as  you  can  wield,  is  required,  and  that,  of  the 
kind  which  is  required,  there  are  saloon-keepers  and 
dog-fanciers  who  have  twice  as  much  as  you.  Not 
to  speak  of  humble  members  of  the  bar." 

"Such  as  yourself?" 

"  By  no  means,  but  such  as  I  shall  retain,  with 
your  permission.  Please  write  me  a  letter,  of  intro- 
duction and  so  forth,  to  Miss  Dillaye,  and  I  will 
guarantee  her  prompt  release  and  delivery  at  your 
house." 

"But  can  we  not  meet  her,  at  some  place?" 

"  On  this  side  of  the  river,  my  dear  sir.  Your 
carriage  can  be  in  waiting  at  two  o'clock,  this  after- 
noon." 

"But  can  you  not  explain?" 

"  Not  till  I  know  more  myself.  I  shall  do  nothing 
improper,  you  may  be  very  sure  of  that." 

"Mrs.  Boyce,"  remarked  Mr.  Brown,  "what  do 
you  say  ?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brown,  Mr.  Allyn  certainly  knows 
more  about  it  than  I  do.  I  should  not  dream  of 
trying  to  improve  on  his  advice." 

"O  uncle,"  exclaimed  Mabel,  "it  surely  is  the 
better  way.  I  will  come  down  with  the  carriage 
and  wait  for  her." 


THE  SHORTEST  WA  Y  OUT.  igi 

"  So  will  I,  then.  Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Allyn, 
but  I  believe  I  have  got  myself  excited  over  this 
matter." 

"  No  wonder,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "  but  men  of 
our  profession  have  to  avoid  that.  Our  first  lesson 
is  to  keep  cool.  If  we  fail  to  learn  that,  our  other 
lessons  do  not  amount  to  much.  I  will  telegraph 
in  a  couple  of  hours  or  so,  where  you  had  better 
wait  for  us.  I  do  not  think  you  will  be  disappointed." 

Very  politely  he  bowed  them  out,  but  they  were 
hardly  gone  when  he  sat  back  in  his  office-chair  with 
a  dry  little  chuckle. 

"  Pretty  kettle  of  fish  he'd  have  made  of  it. 
Stirred  up  the  courts  and  the  city  departments. 
Made  a  big  row.  Got  the  reporters  after  him  for  a 
week.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  the  whole  family  had 
their  portraits  in  the  illustrated  weeklies.  The 
poor  girl  never'd  have  heard  the  end  of  it.  Get 
her  out  ?  Of  course  I  can.  They'll  be  only  too  glad 
to  have  it  done  without  any  unpleasant  fuss.  They've 
too  many  awkward  things  on  their  calendar  already 
to  be  hungry  for  another  just  now." 

Mr.  Brown  had  not  neglected,  before  departing, 
to  pen  a  hasty  note  of "  authority"  to  Carrie  Dillaye, 
and,  armed  with  this,  Mr.  Allyn  put  on  his  hat  and 
sallied  forth.  To  do  him  justice,  he  was  quite  willing 
to  let  other  matters  look  out  for  themselves  while 
he  devoted  himself  to  such  an  errand  as  he  had  now 
in  hand. 


!C)2  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

There  were  not  many  "  wires"  to  be  pulled,  or 
at  least  it  did  not  require  any  more  time  to  pull 
them  than  Mr.  Allyn  had  given  himself,  and  the 
promised  telegram  was  duly  sent  and  received. 

A  little  to  Mr.  Brown's  surprise,  Mrs.  Boyce  de- 
cidedly declined  making  one  of  the  party  for  the 
second  trip. 

"  I've  thought  it  over,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  sure 
Miss  Dillaye  would  rather  meet  no  one  but  you 
and  Mabel,  under  such  disagreeable  circumstances. 
Especially  if  she  is  ill  or  nervous  it  will  be  better 
so.  I  will  have  everything  ready  here  when  you 
return." 

And  after  Mr.  Brown  was  in  the  carnage  he  said 
to  Mabel: 

"  What  good  common  sense  Mrs.  Boyce  has. 
Genuine  delicacy.  I  can  see  that  her  decision  was 
a  wise  one,  but  most  women  would  have  come  right 
along,  without  thinking." 

Mabel  assented,  but  she  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
talk  much.  Probably  she  was  thinking  and  feeling 
too  deeply  about  her  cousin  Carrie. 

She  could  not,  of  course,  have  helped  admiring 
Mrs.  Boyce. 

It  was  about  half-past  one  o'clock  of  that  day 
that  Fred  Heron,  after  struggling  desperately  with 
the  restless  spirit  which  possessed  him,  took  it  into 
his  head  to  manoeuvre  for  an  errand  to  the  female 
ward  of  the  hospital.  He  was  anxions  to  have  a 


THE  SHOR TEST  WA  Y  0 UT. 

word  with  the  matron,  but  he  was  not  very  clear  as 
to  what  he  wanted  to  say  to  her. 

It  must  have  been  something  about  Carrie  Dillaye, 
for  no  sooner  had  he  crossed  the  supposed-to-be  im- 
passable boundary  of  that  section  of  the  sick-prison 
than  he  looked  quickly  around  for  his  acquaintance. 

He  searched  in  every  direction,  but  he  found  her 
not. 

Could  she  have  been  taken  down  sick  again  ?  Or 
could  anything  have  happened  to  her?  Could  she 
have  been  removed  to  the  common  ward  ? 

He  knew  there  were  traditions  of  dreadful  things 
connected  with  the  history  of  that  noble  institu- 
tion, and  all  he  had  heard,  and  more,  came  trooping 
through  his  mind  as  he  looked,  and  looked  in  vain. 

It  was  the  matron'i  voice  at  his  elbow,  as  hard 
and  as  harsh  as  ever. 

"  It's  all  right,  Rogers.  She's  been  gone  these 
ten  minutes.  They  came  down  fairly  well,  but  I 
expect  you  to  look  out  for  me  a  little  when  your 
own  turn  comes." 

"Gone?"  exclaimed  Fred. 

"Yes,  didn't  you  know  they  were  coming?  The 
lawyers?  Mum's  the  word,  though,  for  they're 
awful  nice  about  it.  What's  her  real  name,  any 
way?  The  one  she  gave  me  was  Dillaye.  Of  course 
that's  a  blind." 

"  Blindest  sort,"  replied  Fred,  "but  I  can't  give 
you  any  other,  not  without  lying." 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"You  can't,  eh?  Well,  I  don't  care.  One's  as 
good  as  another.  I  hain't  got  much  curiosity,  no- 
how." 

But  Fred  Heron  went  back  to  his  own  limits,  with 
a  great  buzz  of  doubt  in  his  head. 

Had  the  right  parties  come  for  Carrie  Dillaye? 
Was  there  no  fraud  about  it? 

He  would  have  been  glad  to  be  sure  about  that, 
and  it  half-way  seemed  as  if  she  ought  to  have  sent 
for  him  before  going. 

And  yet,  why  should  she  ? 

What  was  the  hospital  assistant,  that  she  should 
remember  him  in  such  a  moment  of  excitement  as 
that  in  which  Mr.  Allyn  handed  her  Mr.  Brown's 
note,  and  said  he  had  come  to  take  her  away. 

"  Home?"  she  had  said.     "  My  father?" 

"  I've  not  seen  him,  Miss  Dillaye,  but  Mr.  Brown's 
own  carriage  will  be  waiting  for  you.  I  believe  he 
means  to  take  you  to  his  house." 

"O  I'm  so  thankful!  But  nobody  will  see  me? 
Nobody  will  know?" 

"Only  Mr.  Clark,  here,  and  myself.  You  can 
trust  our  prudence,  Miss  Dillaye.  Shall  we  not  go 
at  once?  The  boat  is  ready  for  us." 

And  so  it  was.  Not  a  ferry-boat,  nor  yet  the 
"  tug"  which  plied  between  the  Island  and  the  shore, 
at  useful  intervals,  but  a  good-sized  yawl,  manned 
by  four  oarsmen  who  seemed  very  decent  fellows 
for  convicts,  and  commanded  by  an  official  whose 


THE  SHOR  TEST  WAY  0  UT.  j  95 

face  struck  Carrie  Dillaye,  if  not  the  lawyers,  as  de- 
cidedly the  worst  one  on  board. 

So  difficult  it  is  to  judge  by  a  man's  face  whether 
he  should  be  in  prison  in  one  capacity  or  in  another. 

A  sweep  of  the  oars,  and  the  boat  darted  away 
from  the  landing  into  the  strong  rush  of  the  tide, 
which  instantly  called  for  all  the  muscle  of  the  four 
convicts. 

A  long,  slender,  waspish  piece  of  land,  was  the 
Island,  with  its  various  temples  of  charity  and  cor- 
rection strewn  irregularly  over  its  surface,  and  on 
either  side  of  it  the  tides  poured  back  and  forth 
with  their  ceaseless  ebb  and  flow,  stronger  there 
than  anywhere  else,  because  pent  between  such  nar- 
row barriers  of  sea-wall  and  pier.  And  beyond  the 
swift  currents,  on  either  shore,  were  the  endless 
streets  and  squares  of  the  great  city  which  is  by 
that  water  split  in  two. 

A  great  city,  and  through  all  those  endless  miles 
of  stony  thoroughfares  the  tides  of  human  life  ebb 
and  flow  with  a  velocity  and  turbulence  they  attain 
not  elsewhere,  because  nowhere  else  are  they  pent 
between  such  narrow  barriers  of  unyielding  circum- 
stance. 

But  Carrie  Dillaye  had  not  yet  begun  to  think  of 
the  city.  She  was  looking  back  at  the  Island. 

"O  sir,"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  "I  ought  to 
have  seen  him,  before  I  came  away.  I  ought  at 
least  to  have  said  good-bye  to  him." 


196  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  To  whom,  Miss  Dillaye?"  politely  inquired  Mr. 
Allyn. 

"  Mr.  Rogers,  one  of  the  hospital  keepers.  He 
was  very  kind  to  me.  The  only  person  who  was. 
Seems  to  me  I  owe  him  my  liberty.  He  told  me 
he  should  write  to  Mr.  Brown." 

"O  he  knows  your  uncle?  It's  all  right,  then. 
Of  course  we  could  not  go  back,  now.  Mr.  Brown 
and  Miss  Varick  will  be  waiting  for  us." 

"Will  they,  indeed?  I  would  not  keep  them 
waiting  one  moment.  But  I  must  not  be  ungrate- 
ful. I  do  hope  I  shall  see  him  again." 

"  Never  fear  about  that,  Miss  Dillaye.  If  you 
don't  see  him,  Mr.  Brown  will.  That  sort  of  man 
is  never  backward  to  report  himself  if  he  has  any 
good  excuse." 

"  He  is  not  that  sort  of  man,  I'm  sure  he  is  not/' 
began  Carrie,  half-indignantly,  but  there  was  a  smile 
of  derisively  superior  intelligence  on  the  lips  of  the 
polite  lawyer,  and  the  young  lady  somehow  called 
to  mind  the  fact  that  she  herself  was  but  just  escap^ 
ing  from  the  horrible  grasp  of  a  prison  hospital, 
and  she  subsided  into  a  pale  and  anxious  sort  of 
silence. 

The  channel  between  the  Island  and  the  city  is 
a  narrow  one,  but  it  is  not  to  be  ferried  in  a  hurry 
by  a  row-boat  when  the  tide  is  running  strong,  so 
that  Carrie  Dillaye  had  plenty  of  time  to  collect 
her  thoughts,  or  to  scatter  them,  before  the  yawl 


THE  SIT  OR  TEST  WA  Y  OUT. 

was  pulled  in  at  the  bottom  of  a  little  flight  of 
movable  wooden  stairs. 

"  Let  me  help  you  up,"  said  Mr.  Allyn,  and  Carrie 
felt  that  she  needed  help.  She  had  never  in  all  her 
life  stood  at  the  bottom  of  so  tremendous  an  eleva- 
tion as  that  between  the  boat's  gunwale  and  the 
level  of  that  rickety,  dirty  pier.  It  seemed  to  con- 
tain all  the  moral  distance  between  the  Island  and 
the  city,  and  Carrie  did  not  know  how  delusive  a 
thing  that  might  be.  Her  trembling  steps  were 
aided  in  their  task  right  vigorously  by  Mr.  Allyn, 
for  that  gentleman  was  on  a  strictly  business  errand, 
and  would  have  reproached  himself  for  any  neglect 
of  the  least  part  of  it,  and  in  a  moment  more  she 
was  conscious,  dimly,  that  the  boat  had  instantly 
been  rowed  away  by  its  convict  crew,  and  their  un- 
convicted  captain. 

A  long,  narrow  pier,  longer,  by  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  miles  of  shame  and  suffering,  than  any 
which  Carrie  Dillaye  had  ever  before  seen  or  heard 
of,  but  a  close  carriage,  drawn  by  a  very  stylish  pair 
of  horses,  was  waiting  at  the  shore  end. 

Mr.  Alfyn  must  have  been  a  gentleman  as  well 
as  a  lawyer,  for  not  one  word  was  spoken  as  the 
door  of  the  carriage  came  open,  and  Carrie  was  all 
but  lifted  through  it,  and  it  was  banged  behind  her 
instantly,  and  the  driver  whipped  up  his  horses, 
and  all  she  knew  or  cared  to  know  for  a  few  min- 
utes was  that  a  pair  of  strong  arms  received  her. 


IQ8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

She  1cnew  whose  arms  they  were,  although  Mr. 
Brown  struggled  in  vain  to  unchoke  a  kindly  word 
or  so  from  the  glut  of  them  which  were  struggling 
so  fiercely  in  his  riotous  and  disorderly  throat. 

She  knew  it  was  her  uncle,  and  then  she  had  no 
doubt  whatever  by  whose  side  he  had  put  her  down, 
on  the  back  seat,  for  another,  not  so  strong  a  pair 
of  arms,  was  round  her  now,  and  the  voice  of  Mabel 
Varick  sounded  slightly  defiant  of  somebody,  if  not 
of  everybody,  as  she  exclaimed : 

"  You're  going  home  with  us,  Carrie,  dear.  Don't 
be  afraid.  Don't  cry.  We'll  take  care  of  you.'* 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

PRINCE  AND  THE  WIDOW  TAKE  A  SURVEY  OF  THE 
SITUATION. 

A  VERY  wise  woman  was  Mrs.  Boyce,  and 
gifted  with  a  high  degree  of  that  kind  of 
philosophy  which  refuses  to  break  its  heart  over  the 
inevitable.  Her  business  affairs,  she  knew,  were 
in  better  hands  than  her  own,  although  she  was 
well  pleased  with  the  fact  that  her  several  boxes 
were  safely  stored,  and  that  her  personal  trunks, 
with  her  wardrobe  and  so  forth,  were  under  the 
protecting  aegis  of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown's  hospitable 
roof. 

The  past  was  secure,  and  so,  to  all  appearance, 
was  the  present,  but  she  had  hardly  as  yet  had  a 
day-light  opportunity  for  quiet  contemplation  of 
the  latter.  The  first  chance  came  when  Mabel 
Varick  and  her  uncle  drove  off  together  on  their 
errand  of  mercy  and  hope,  leaving  the  widow  look- 
ing after  them  from  the  open  window  of  the 
library. 

199 


200  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Prince  followed  them  to  the  gate,  for  he  had 
been  blessed  with  an  increase  of  liberty  since  his 
adventure  with  the  tramps,  albeit  with  the  melan- 
choly drawback  of  a  wire-cage  on  his  muzzle.  That, 
to  be  sure,  was  only  meant  as  a  protection  against 
improper  food  which  might  again  be  cast  in  his 
path,  but  the  sorrow  of  it  was  none  the  less  de- 
pressing to  the  mind  of  the  dog. 

There  is  probably  no  created  thing  that  is  satis-. 
fied  with  its  muzzle,  no  matter  what  the  reason  for 
strapping  it  firmly  on. 

Prince  looked  at  the  departing  carriage  with  a 
low  whine,  as  much  as  to  say: 

"Gone.  So  they  have.  And  the  only  protec- 
tion this  world  has  from  its  tramps  and  things  is 
left  here  with  his  faithful  nose  in  prison." 

And  then  he  turned  and  strode  back  along  the 
gravel-walk,  up  the  front  steps  and  through  the  yet 
open  door.  He  might  as  well  have  a  whole  house 
over  his  head  as  that  intolerable  wire-cage. 

Mrs.  Boyce  had  not  hitherto  succeeded  in  ac- 
quiring the  confidence  of  Prince-,  but  she  was  well 
aware  of  his  importance.  Of  small  account  in  any 
household  must  be  that  member  whom  the  house- 
dog refuses  to  recognize  as  "one  of  us,"  and  Mrs. 
Boyce  knew  altogether  too  much  not  to  know  that. 

When,  therefore,  the  stately  quadruped  marched 
into  the  library  and  looked  around  him  so  wist- 
fully, he  was  greeted  with  a  degree  of  cordiality 


EXTREME  DOGMA  TISM.  2Ql 

which  ought  to  have  gone  to  his  very  heart.  It 
must  have  done  so,  more  or  less,  for  not  only  were 
the  usual  effects  visible  in  the  corresponding  sway 
of  his  heavily  fringed  tail,  but  he  came  forward, 
more  and  more  slowly,  until  his  wire-bound  head 
was  thrust  into  her  lap. 

Absurdly  forlorn  was  the  look  he  gave  her,  and 
her  own  eyes  suddenly  lighted  up  with  a  half- 
triumphant  expression.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  in- 
dications were  so  completely  in  her  favor, — even 
Prince — 

But  the  one  great  enemy  of  the  profoundest 
human  wisdom  is  its  proneness  to  that  haste  which 
makes  the  present  the  enemy  of  the  future.  Such 
a  perpetual  infanticide  of  hope  goes  on  at  the 
hands  of  that  same  haste!  Mrs.  Boyce  had  per- 
mitted her  too-ready  hands  to  fumble  with  the 
strap  and  buckle  of  Prince's  muzzle,  as  if  she  had  it 
in  mind  to  earn  his  gratitude  by  a  temporary  gift 
of  freedom. 

He  knew  what  she  meant,  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that,  but  all  the  brute  fidelity  within  him 
arose  in  prompt  resentment.  That  was  an  act  of 
sovereignty  which  belonged  to  his  master  alone,  or 
his  known  and  accredited  delegates,  and  its  usurpa- 
tion by  unauthorized  fingers  called  for  so  gruff, 
husky,  threatening  a  protest,  and  so  green  a  gleam 
in  his  sagacious  eyes,  that  Mrs.  Boyce  drew  back 
her  touch  as  if  from  something  very  hot. 


202  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  You  ungrateful  fellow.  Wear  it,  if  you  want  to. 
I'll  never  offer  to  help  you  again." 

Prince  wagged  his  tail,  but  did  not  remove  his 
head,  and  the  widow  was  a  little  puzzled  what  to 
do  about  it.  She  had  duties  before  her,  all  over 
the  house,  more  than  anybody  else  knew  anything 
about,  and  here  was  this  monstrous  animal  right  in 
the  way  of  them  all.  Especially  in  her  own  way. 
There,  too,  he  seemed  disposed  to  remain,  for  min- 
ute after  minute  passed,  and  Prince  continued  his 
unwavering  study  of  her  face,  with  his  upturned 
eyes,  except  when,  now  and  then,  he  yawned  as 
widely  as  the  confining  wires  would  let  him.  In 
those  brief  moments  Mrs.  Boyce  obtained  a  clearer 
idea  than  she  had  ever  had  before,  of  what  is  meant 
by  "  the  jaws  of  destruction."  She  concluded  that 
they  must  be  lined  with  ranges  of  long,  white  teeth 
around  a  cavern  of  vivid  red,  shading  into  black 
streaks,  here  and  there.  It  was  a  great  improve- 
ment in  the  situation,  whenever  Prince  again  shut 
his  mouth. 

How  long  it  lasted,  that  mutual  study  of  dog  and 
lady,  were  hard  to  say,  with  exactness,  nor  could 
its  further  duration  have  been  prophesied,  but  at 
last  the  front-door  went  to  with  a  great  bang,  when 
a  passing  servant  discovered  how  carelessly  it  had 
been  left  open,  and  Prince  was  compelled  to  go  for 
a  look  into  the  hall.  Mrs.  Boyce  was  on  her  feet  in 
an  instant. 


EXTREME  DOGMA  TISM.  203 

"  Was  I  afraid  of  him?"  she  said  to  herself.  "  He 
could  not  have  bitten  me.  I  declare,  it  seemed  to 
me  as  if  I  could  not  have  moved.  Have  dogs  any 
mesmeric  power?" 

One  would  say  not,  at  least  if  they  are  well  muz- 
zled, but  under  some  circumstances,  at  the  foot  of  a 
fruit-tree  with  a  boy  in  it,  for  instance.  But  then 
that  may  not  be  considered  genuine  mesmerism. 

Once  delivered,  the  widow  had  no  notion  of  re- 
turning into  bondage,  but  Prince  was  by  no  means 
disposed  to  deprive  her  of  his  company. 

Slowly,  thoughtfully,  as  she  passed  from  room  to 
room,  mentally  grasping  the  contents  and  capacities 
of  each  as  only  such  a  woman  can,  just  so  slowly, 
thoughtfully,  and  with  even  greater  dignity,  the 
great  and  solemn  dog,  with  his  wire  muzzle  on  his 
head,  paced  from  room  to  room  behind  her.  He 
knew  she  belonged  in  the  house,  and  perhaps  he  saw 
no  special  objection  to  her  present  pilgrimage,  but 
whatever  article  of  furniture,  of  art,  of  curious  an- 
tiquity or  other  attraction,  the  widow  paused  be- 
fore, on  that  same  piece  of  property  were  at  the 
same  moment  concentrated  the  eyes  and  interest  of 
the  sagacious  Prince. 

In  one  room  on  the  second  floor,  a  large  corner 
room,  there  stood  an  elegantly  carved  ebony  cabinet 
between  the  windows.  It  was  surmounted  by  a 
mirror,  but  was  evidently  more  of  a  writing-desk 
than  dressing-table,  although  it  might  have  served 


204  THE  HEART  OF  IT- 

for  either  or  both.  A  curious  ancient  sort  of  an 
affair,  and  the  key  was  in  the  lock,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  No  secrets  here,  certainly  none  from  you." 

Mrs.  Boyce  put  out  a  white,  plump  hand,  on 
which  were  lovely  rings,  and  it  rested  a  moment  on 
a  little  carven  dragon,  just  above  the  key.  Then  it 
was  quickly  and  sharply  snatched  away,  although 
the  ebony  dragon  had  neither  moved  wing  or  claw 
nor  uttered  a  sound. 

No,  not  the  dragon.  The  growl  came  through 
the  meshes  of  that  wire-cage  on  the  head  of  the 
house-dog. 

"You  foolish  fellow,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  not 
steal  anything." 

But  Prince  only  wagged  his  tail  and  yawned. 
There  was  much  about  his  self-assumed  duty  which 
he  did  not  clearly  understand,  and  he  knew  that 
good  manners  were  required  of  all  in  that  house. 
As  much  tail-wagging,  therefore,  as  politeness  might 
suggest,  but  not  too  much  investigation,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  His  mind  was  clearly  made  up  on 
that  head,  whatever  might  be  the  temporary  dis- 
abilities of  his  own. 

Certainly  a  noble  mansion,  elegantly  and  taste- 
fully furnished  in  every  part.  Even  the  servants' 
rooms  were  models  of  neatness  and  comfort.  Mr. 
Brown  would  have  despised  himself  if  he  had  per- 
mitted them  to  be  otherwise,  and  Mrs.  Boyce  was 
compelled  to  remark :  "  The  housekeeper  is  a  good 


EXTREME  DOGMA  TJSM.  205 

one,  no  doubt,  but  there  is  more  in  Mabel  Varick 
than  I  had  imagined.  This  is  not  all  housekeeper. 
There's  more  than  a  little  mistress  about  it.  I'm 
glad  to  have  learned  so  much  as  that,  in  spite  of 
this  horrid  old  dog.  I'll  make  a  friend  of  him, 
though,  soon  enough.  He'll  get  used  to  me,  and 
then  it'll  be  only  a  question  of  bones.  Dogs  are  all 
alike." 

That  is  the  prevailing  superstition,  but  there  is  a 
tremendous  fallacy  in  it.  One  dog  is  no  more  like 
another  than  one  day  is  like  another.  No,  not  so 
much,  for  the  days  are  nominally  of  the  same  length, 
while  the  dogs  are  not.  Even  clipping  their  tails 
will  not  make  them  so. 

Back  to  the  library,  now,  and  Prince  went  about 
his  other  business,  and  left  Mrs.  Boyce  to  the  en- 
joyment of  the  book  she  picked  up  from  the  table. 
There  was  one  occupation,  at  all  events,  which  he 
considered  entirely  innocent,  but  in  which  he  took 
no  interest.  Even  if  he  had  known  more  about 
such  things,  it  is  possible  he  might  have  retained 
his  opinion  without  any  loss  of  reputation  for  wis- 
dom. He  would  simply  have  continued  to  vote  with 
the  majority  of  his  fellow-beings. 

But  Mrs.  Boyce  had  not  picked  up  that  book  with 
any  intention  of  reading  it.  Something  to  hold  in  the 
hand  while  gazing  out  of  the  window  and  following 
a  very  wandering  train  of  thought,  that  was  all. 
There  was  a  good  deal  in  her  present  circumstances 


206  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

which  called  for  careful  thinking,  and  even  the  con- 
duct of  Prince  may  have  had  its  suggestiveness  to 
so  keen  a  mind  as  that  of  the  widow.  Her  survey 
of  the  house  had  been  conducted  leisurely,  and  had 
consumed  a  good  deal  of  time  for  her,  and  patient 
waiting  by  the  window  ate  up  the  rest,  until  there 
came  a  sound  of  rapid  wheels  up  the  street  and  Mr. 
Brown's  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  gate. 

Mrs.  Boyce  had  at  first  intended  to  open  the  front- 
door for  them,  in  person,  but  she  had  now  thought 
better  of  that,  and  she  did  but  pull  the  bell  for  a 
servant.  When  they  came  in  she  could  be  just  a 
little  in  the  back-ground,  at  the  library  door. 

It  was  admirably  done,  for  Mr.  Brown  did  not 
have  to  ring  the  bell,  and  when  Mabel  and  Carrie 
came  in,  the  latter  was  just  able  to  perceive,  in  a  dim, 
cloudy  sort  of  way,  that  she  was  "received"  by  Mrs. 
Boyce.  Such  a  kindly  sweet-voiced,  smiling  wel- 
come, a  good  deal  more  friendly  than  motherly,  but 
with  a  subtle  absence  of  any  undue  expression  of 
feeling,  for  which  Carrie  could  not  help  being  grate- 
ful. It  seemed  so  to  ignore  the  suggestion  that 
there  were  any  unpleasant  things  connected  with 
her  coming,  and  such  a  delicate  desire  to  make  her 
feel  at  home.  Mabel  Varick  had  been  trying  to 
school  her  cousin  into  that  state  of  mind,  all  the 
way,  and  she  too  would  have  been  grateful  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  self-possessed  completeness  of 
that  reception.  It  was  not  only  self-possessed,  it 


EXTREME  DOGMA  TISM.  2Q? 

seemed  to  her,  but  almost  house-possessed  as 
well.  And  good  Mr.  Brown  thought  he  had  never 
witnessed  anything  so  nearly  perfect  in  all  his  life. 

Very  likely  he  never  had. 

"Would  your  cousin  not  like  to  go  to  her  own- 
room,  dear?"  asked  the  widow,  of  Mabel.  "It  is 
all  ready  for  her." 

"  Her  room  ?  O — yes,  she  is  to  room  with  me. 
Come,  Carrie,  I'll  order  lunch,  and  we'll  be  ready  for 
it.  Uncle  Daniel  can  stay  and  talk  with  Mrs. 
Boyce.  I  know  she  won't  mind  our  leaving  her." 

"  Certainly  not,  dear.  And  I'll  see  about  the 
lunch.  Is  there  anything  special  you  and  your 
cousin  would  like?" 

"  Never  mind  them,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown,  his 
strong,  honest  face  all  aglow  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  inner  purposes.  "Run  right  along,  girls;  I'll 
see  to  everything.  I'm  just  happy  all  over.  You 
are  safe,  now,  Carrie." 

Miss  Dillaye  had  arisen,  while  he  was  speaking, 
from  the  sofa  upon  which  she  had  sank  on  entering, 
and  Mabel  had  put  an  arm  around  her,  as  if  she 
thought  some  sort  of  assistance  might  be  needed, 
but  there  was  a  great  light  on  her  cousin's  face  as 
she  leaned  towards  Mr.  Brown  and  murmured  : 

"  Uncle  Daniel,  I  am  safe,  indeed  I  am.  It  would 
never  have  happened  if  I  had  been  here.  I  see  it 
all,  now.  Quick,  Mabel,  I  must  go  with  you  before 
I  say  any  more." 


2o8  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

And  there  was  a  half-frightened  look  on  Mabel 
Varick's  face  as  the  two  hurried  out  of  the  library, 
but  it  had  chased  away  something  very  like  a 
cloud. 

If  Mr.  Brown  expected  to  be  plied  with  questions 
concerning  what  had  passed  since  he  left  the  house, 
he  was  agreeably  disappointed,  but  the  account  he 
gave  the  widow  was  amply  sufficient.  He  told  all 
he  knew,  before  lunch  was  ready,  and  she  listened 
with  the  utmost  sympathy  and  appreciation.  He 
was  absolutely  sure  of  her  admiring  approval.  Nor 
was  there  the  least  touch  of  hypocrisy  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Boyce.  She  was  just  the  woman  to  com- 
prehend the  vigorous  unselfishness  of  such  a  man. 
The  one  thing  she  failed  to  see,  perhaps,  was 
that  very  little  weakness  displayed  itself,  after 
all,  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  soft  spots  of  Mr. 
Brown's  character.  A  moderate  pilgrimage  among 
his  business  acquaintances  would  have  enabled  her 
to  discover  many  things  to  which  she  was  as  yet 
disposed  to  be  a  little  blind.  Even  her  own  self- 
knowledge  should  have  taught  her  that  a  woman 
like  the  widow  Boyce  could  not  possibly  have  so 
admired  a  man  who  was  the  least  bit  of  a  fool. 

What  she  wanted  to  ask  him  about,  after  all,  was 
the  nature  of  his  purposes,  rather  than  the  history 
of  what  he  had  already  done,  but  Carrie  herself  had 
said  enough  to  suggest  the  idea  that  those  purposes 
would  require  more  than  a  little  close  thinking. 


EXTREME  DOGMA  T1SM. 


209 


"  Can  there  be,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  a  skele- 
ton of  any  sort  among  the  closets  of  a  family  like 
this?" 

If  so,  Daniel  Brown  was  just  the  man  to  string  the 
loose  bones  of  it  together  and  secure  them  a  decent 
burial,  without  setting  up  any  unnecessarily  des- 
criptive monument. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

RAW  VOLUNTEERS  AGAINST  REGULAR  TROOPS. 

THERE  is  no  other  corner  of  the  habitable  globe 
so  entirely  hidden  and  unexplorable  as  the 
private  chamber  of  a  young  lady,  unless  it  may  be 
the  inner  room  of  her  own  heart.  But  Bessie  Heron 
sat  by  her  table,  that  evening,  with  her  pen  in  her 
hand,  inditing  a  somewhat  minute  confidential  pic- 
ture of  both  kinds  of  privacy  to  her  former  hostess, 
Mrs.  Baird.  That  is  to  say,  she  gave  a  reasonably 
full  description  of  her  present  surroundings,  and 
ornamented  it  with  graphic  settings  forth  of  her 
state  of  mind. 

Nor  could  Mrs.  Baird  have  complained  of  any 
lack  of  truth  to  nature  on  the  part  of  the  artist, 
for  Bessie  was  a  good  hand  with  a  pen. 

But  she  wa^  not  contented  to  stop  there.  Other 
states  of  mind  and  heart  required  analysis  and  de- 
scription, especially  those  belonging  to  her  erring 
brother  Fred,  and  if  Mrs.  Baird  had  never  before 
obtained  a  clear  idea  concerning  the  needs  and  dis- 
210 


ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE.  2 1 1 

qualifications  of  that  luckless  wanderer,  she  received 
one  now.  That  is,  if  Bessie's  picture  made  its  due 
impression  on  her  mind.  It  was  all  done  so  lov- 
ingly, too,  with  such  a  perpetual  ripple  of  sisterly 
sorrow  and  hope,  as  ought  to  have  been  in  the 
highest  degree  satisfactory  to  Fred,  or  even  to  his 
wife,  if  he  had  had  one.  Pity  he  had  not,  and  that 
she  could  not  have  received  that  letter.  How  it 
would  have  opened  her  eyes.  And  Bessie  thought 
it  not  unlikely  Fred  might  meet  Mrs.  Baird,  some 
day  or  other,  and  she  desired  to  interest  that  good 
and  kindly  lady  on  his  behalf.  She,  in  turn,  might 
interest  others,  and  they  ought  to  know  all  about 
him,  and  how  very  much  he  stood  in  need  of  con- 
stant surveillance.  She  had  helped  him,  in  that 
way,  had  that  good  sister  of  his,  more  times  than 
once,  already,  and  one  striking  proof  of  the  de- 
pravity of  his  nature  was  that  he  had  not  only 
shown  no  appreciation  of  her  kindness,  but  had 
even  manifested  a  disposition  thereafter  to  separate 
and  conceal  from  her  his  ways  in  life.  He  had 
gone  so  far  as  to  take  pains  that  she  should  not 
know  or  come  in  contact  with  any  of  his  present 
friends  and  associates. 

It  was  hard  to  understand,  and^Bessie  said  as 
much,  in  a  long  letter  she  wrote  him,  after  com- 
pleting the  one  to  Mrs.  Baird. 

Many  things  she  had  to  endure,  in  the  inscruta 
ble  course  of  Divine  Providence — could  that  have 


212  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

been  Bessie's  Sunday  name  for  Blind  Luck? — but 
the  lack  of  her  brother's  sympathy  and  confidence 
had  been  one  of  the  bitterest  drops  in  the  cup  of 
her  earthly  discomfort.  She  felt  for  him,  and  she 
wanted  him  to  understand  it,  but  she  had  neither 
care  nor  thought  for  herself — she  had  never  had — 
and  she  freely  and  frankly  told  him  so.  For  his  own 
sake,  however,  the  sooner  he  aroused  himself  and 
began  to  care  somewhat  for  others,  not  for  her,  in- 
deed, for  she  had  friends  who  loved  her  and  cared 
for  her,  and  acknowledged  how  much  they  were 
indebted  to  her,  but  for  Augustus,  and  for — well 
for  quite  a  list  of  more  or  less  able-bodied  men  and 
women — the  sooner  he  would  realize  what  a  dis- 
graceful failure  he  had  made  of  his  life  thus  far,  and 
that  would  be  a  tremendous  blessing. 

So  it  would,  but  it  might  be  Fred  had  a  tolerably 
clear  notion  of  the  sort  already. 

Bessie's  philosophy  of  help  differed  somewhat 
from  poor,  old,  stupid  John  Bunyan's,  not  to  speak 
of  some  of  the  writers  from  whom  the  tramp  in 
Bedford  jail  was  so  fond  of  quoting.  He,  and  some 
of  the  rest,  talked  of  their  pilgrim  as  finding  a 
means  of  casting  off  his  burden.  There  was  even  a 
place  for  it  to  fall  into,  so  that  he  saw  it  no  more, 
but  marched  on  rejoicing,  but  Bessie  understood 
clearly  that  no  such  thing  would  have  done  for 
Fred.  If  she  had  known,  that  night,  in  what  ward 
of  what  hospital  to  look  for  him,  she  would,  no 


ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE.  2 1 3 

doubt,  have  wept  profusely,  but  she  would  have 
consoled  herself  with  the  hopeful  thought — 

"I  expected  some  such  thing.  But  will  it  be 
enough?  Will  it  teach  him  what  he  really  is?  It's 
only  for  sixty  days.  O  if  he  would  but  come  out 
subdued  and  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  listen  to  me,  I 
would  not  care  how  much  he  suffered.  It  would 
all  be  well  put  in." 

Yes,  if  she  had  known  it  all  she  would  have  borne 
it,  for  she  had  a  good  deal  of  that  sort  of  heroism 
in  her  composition,  as  Fred  had  more  than  once 
discovered. 

Even  such  a  case  as  that  of  Carrie  Dillaye  would 
have  had  its  bright  and  comforting  side  to  a  mind 
like  Bessie's,  and  it  was  a  pity  the  two  were  so  widely 
separated,  that  evening.  As  it  was,  the  course  of 
events  at  Mr.  Brown's  had  been  led  by  the  nose  in 
a  way  the  wisdom  of  which  was  open  to  question. 

Mabel  and  Carrie  remained  in  thelatter's  dressing- 
room  an  unconscionably  long  time,  considering 
what  had  been  said  about  lunch,  and  only  the  faint- 
est outline  can  be  given  of  what  they  had  been 
up  to. 

"  I'm  so  glad,"  Mabel  remarked,  "  that  we  are  so 
nearly  of  a  size.  My  things  always  fitted  you. 
Nevermind  the  colors  being  a  little  wrong  for  you." 

"Do  I  look  very  badly?" 

"  No,  not  even  pale.  You  must  have  had  enough 
to  eat." 


214  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  So  I  did,  but  I  could  not  eat  at  all,  at  first. 
Then,  I  must  say,  my  appetite  came  back,  and  I'm 
ever  so  hungry  now.  I  wonder  how  I  shall  get  at 
my  own  things !" 

The  two  girls  were  standing'  by  the  dressing- 
bureau  as  she  said  that,  and  the  thought  that  came 
with  it  certainly  did  make  her  pale. 

Her  father?  His  house?  Her  future?  What 
about  them? 

Mabel  heard  all  the  questions  that  were  not  asked, 
for  she  quickly  answered. 

"  Dont  speak  of  it  now,  Carrie;  Uncle  Daniel  will 
take  care  of  it  all.  I  know  he  will.  Don't  you 
suppose  he  loves  you  as  well  as  he  does  me?" 

"  But  my  father!" 

"  I  suppose  I  mustn't  say  what  I  think,  Carrie,  but 
he  cannot  have  his  way  in  everything,  even  to 
please  your  stepmother.  Uncle  Daniel  will  see 
about  all  that,  too.  I  believe  they  will  be  afraid 
of  him." 

"  They  do  not  like  him  any  too  well.  I  know 
that.  But,  Mabel,  what  about  Mrs.  Boyce?  Is  she 
here  on  a  visit  ?" 

"  O  Carrie,  that's  another  of  Uncle  Daniel's  good 
deeds,  I  suppose.  She's  poor,  now- — " 

"Poor?     Mrs.   Boyce?" 

"O  you've  not  heard.     Well,  I'll  tell  you—" 

And  so  she  did,  and  it  was  very  well  told,  too,  for 
before  the  story  was  ended  Mabel  herself  knew 


ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE.  2 1 5 

more  than  when  she  began  it.  There  is  nothing 
occult  or  uncommon  about  that,  as  everybody 
knows.  If  you  want  to  understand  a  thing,  try  to 
explain  it  to  somebody  else.  The  result  will  some- 
times surprise  you.  It  did  Mabel,  for  it  brought 
from  her,  at  last,  the  exclamation : 

"  And  now  I've  another  reason  for  being  glad  to 
have  you  here.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  an  ally." 

"Why,  Mabel!  Is  it  war?" 

"  Hardly  a  skirmish  yet,  but  I  feel  as  if  the  in- 
vader had  already  passed  the  frontier  and  was  be- 
ginning to  fortify  herself." 

"She  can't  be  starved  out." 

"  No,  Carrie,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do." 

"What's  that,  dear?" 

"  We  can  take  care  of  Uncle  Daniel.  Think  of 
what  a  change  there  has  been  in  your  own  house — 

"  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  of  it.  But  what 
can  I  do,  Mabel?" 

"You  can  throw  off  all  the  prison  air  you  brought 
with  you,  and  come  down  to  lunch  as  if  you  and  I 
owned  all  this  part  of  the  city." 

It  was  a  grandly  good  thing  for  Carrie  Dillaye  to 
have  something  besides  herself  to  think  of,  just 
then.  She  certainly  was  looking  well,  and  her  selec- 
tions from  Mabel's  ample  wardrobe  fitted  and  be- 
came her  admirably,  in  spite  of  any  criticisms  on 
"  the  colors." 

The  latter  seemed  to  suit  Carrie's  darker  style  al- 


2l6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

most  as  well  as  they  did  the  sunny  hair  and  fair 
complexion  of  her  cousin. 

No  higher  compliment  than  that  could  have  been 
paid  to  colors  or  fabrics  by  any  young  lady.  But 
then  neither  Mabel  nor  Carrie  belonged  to  that 
large  class  of  females  whose  obstinate  and  ill-tem- 
pered beauty  seems  in  a  perpetual  death-grapple 
with  its  surroundings.  Sometimes  the  dress  is 
killed,  and  sometimes  the  beauty,  but  not  uncom- 
monly they  both  perish,  and  their  unfortunate 
owner  might  almost  as  well  not  have  had  any  dress 
at  all. 

That  is,  nothing  but  clothing. 

Clothing  does  not  imply  dress,  and  an  inspection 
of  a  grand  ball  or  a  royal  reception  will  promptly 
establish  the  fact  that  dress,  on  the  other  hand,  by 
no  means  implies  clothing — at  least,  for  the  lady 
part  of  the  human  beings  on  exhibition. 

Mrs.  Boyce  had  met  Carrie  Dillaye  more  than 
once,  in  days  gone  by,  and  believed  herself  to  have 
formed  as  clear  and  correct  an  estimate  of  her  as 
of  Mabel  Varick,  but  her  face  put  on  a  puzzled  as 
well  as  delighted  look  when  the  two  girls  sailed  into 
the  dining-room. 

If  the  widow  had  proposed  to  herself  to  relieve 
Mabel  of  the  irksome  duty  of  presiding  at  the 
lunch  table  she  was  not  quick  enough  in  making 
the  offer.  It  took  several  seconds  too  much  time 
for  her  to  tell  Carrie  Dillaye  how  very  greatly  she 


ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE.  2 1  / 

was  improved  in  appearance  already,  for  Mr.  Brown 
joined  her  in  the  pleasant  business,  most  exuberantly, 
and  he  had  to  be  made  to  feel  how  entirely  he  had 
the  womanly  sympathy  of  his  accomplished  guest. 

In  not  neglecting  that  impotant  matter,  Mrs. 
Boyce  temporarily  missed  the  control  of  the  coffee- 
urn  and  Mabel  Varick  was  able  to  remark: 

"  Come,  Uncle  Daniel,  Carrie  is  hungry.  You 
must  be,  also,  Mrs.  Boyce.  Sorry  we  kept  you 
waiting  so  long,  but  we  could  not  help  it.  After 
this  you  won't  have  to  wait.  Carrie  can  take  my 
place  when  I'm  not  here." 

"  It  will  be  so  pleasant,"  softly  responded  Mrs. 
Boyce,  but  Mr.  Brown  was  vaguely  conscious  of  a 
formless  and  soulless  idea,  vainly  scratching  for  en- 
trance at  the  bare  spot  on  the  top  of  his  mind.  It 
is  every  bit  as  well  for  all  men  that  they  are  not 
endowed  with  feminine  perceptions.  It  would  only 
make  them  miserable,  every  time  they  blundered. 
Even  as  it  is,  a  good  many  of  them  are  more  fully 
posted  than  they  need  be  concerning  their  occasional 
short-comings.  But  that  is  generally  owing  to  ex- 
cess of  loving  zeal  on  the  part  of  the  best  woman 
in  the  world. 

Mr.  Brown  had  not  blundered,  nor  had  anybody 
else,  perceptibly,  and  the  nearest  thing  to  it  was 
when  he  said  something  about  his  house  being  a 
better  place  for  a  hungry  young  lady  than  the  hos- 
pital on  the  Island. 


2 1 8  THE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

"  Is  there  such  a  place,  Uncle  Daniel  ?"  exclaimed 
Carrie.  "  Havel  ever  been  there?  It  seems  tome 
as  if  I  had  been  just  waked  up  from  a  dreadful 
dream,  but  I  cannot  recall  much  of  it,  just  now." 

"  Do  not  try,"  suggested  Mrs.  Boyce,  with  some- 
thing arch  in  her  smile.  "  The  best  we  can  do  with 
ugly  dreams  is  to  forget  them." 

"That's  it,  Carrie,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  very  heartily. 
"  Nobody  knows  anything  about  your  dream.  If 
any  one  should  ask  me  where  you  are,  I  should 
tell  them  you  are  visiting  your  cousin  Mabel  at  my 
house.  You  and  she  may  be  planning  a  summer 
tour  together,  for  all  I  know." 

"Or  we  may  not,"  suggested  Mabel.  "What 
shall  I  do  about  dinner,  Uncle  Daniel,  after  so  very 
late  a  lunch  ?" 

"  Dinner?  O — well — I  suppose  I  shall  not  be 
here.  Doubt  if  I'm  home  before  its  quite  late.  I 
have  some  very  important  business  on  hand." 

"Then,  if  Mrs.  Boyce  does  not  care,"  said  Mabel, 
"  we  will  only  have  tea,  and  it's  almost  too  warm 
for  even  that." 

"Me?"  said  Mrs.  Boyce.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  be 
rid  of  the  responsibility  of  eating  a  dinner.  It  will 
be  so  much  time  saved  for  my  inspection." 

"Your  inspection?" 

"Yes.  If  you  and  Miss  Dillaye  will  come  to  my 
room  with  me,  after  your  uncle  goes,  I  will  get  you 
to  help  me." 


ON  THE  SKIRMISH  LINE.  2 1 9 

Either  Mabel  Varick  or  Carrie  Dillaye  would  have 
scorned  the  idea  that  she  could  be  influenced  by  so 
base  a  motive  as  curiosity,  but  Mrs.  Boyce  had  won 
a  move  on  them,  for  all  that.  She  was  by  all  odds  a 
more  experienced  player,  and  it  is  quite  possible 
she  was  taking  a  deeper  interest  in  the  game  than 
either  of  Mr.  Brown's  nieces. 

That  gentleman  himself  was  momentarily  put- 
ting on  more  and  more  of  the  accustomed  wrinkles 
of  his  business  face,  and  it  was  evident  that  not  all 
of  his  thoughts  were  pleasant  ones.  They  cut  short 
his  lunch  for  him,  at  all  events,  and,  late  as  it  was, 
he  was  speedily  hurrying  away  on  some  errand 
about  which  he  was  exceedingly  in  earnest. 

Mrs.  Boyce  was  left,  therefore,  to  make  such  an 
explanation  of  her  "  inspection"  as  she  might  choose, 
and  it  was  pretty  sure  to  include  such  an  unselfish 
effort  to  amuse  Carrie  Dillaye  as  would  keep  her 
and  Mabel  within  the  reach  of  the  widow's  eye  and 
tongue  for  the  remainder  of  that  evening,  whatever 
might  be  its  other  and  more  remote  consequences. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

INTRODUCING  A   STEP-MOTHER — MR.  BROWN   GOES 
A  STEP  FARTHER. 

A  GREAT  city  like  that  has  many  neighborhoods, 
+-*•  although  the  greater  part  of  its  population 
never  by  any  chance  get  into  one  of  them.  It  is 
only  the  very  poor,  the  very  rich,  and  the  socially 
capable  and  designing,  who  succeed  in  discovering 
neighbors  among  a  crowd  so  vast.  When  a  city 
gets  to  be  a  millionaire  it  is  apt  t.o  be  a  trifle  care- 
less as  to  how  its  varied  thousands  are  invested  and 
arranged.  That's  one  reason  so  many  of  them  find 
their  way  into  bonds  of  one  kind  and  another,  and 
so  large  a  percentage  is  annually  wasted  and  lost. 
Mr.  Brown's  neighborhood  was  a  good  one,  full 
of  old  families,  some  of  whom  could  even  show  the 
pictures  of  their  grandfathers,  though  very  few  of 
them  would  have  freely  exhibited  said  portraits,  if 
authentic.  Strange  that  the  best  thing  in  oil  should 
be  shut  out  of  a  portrait  gallery,  if  the  name  of  the 
subject  goes  with  it,  and  it  should  represent  a  man 
with  a  pack  on  his  back,  a  tinsmith's  hammer  in  his 
220 


CARRIE'S  0 THER  INHERITANCE.  22 1 

hand,  a  broken  flat-iron  on  a  leather  apron  in  his 
lap,  or  even  a  robust  and  motherly  woman  leaning 
over  a  wash-tub,  with  a  pipe  in  her  mouth.  But 
such  is  one  of  the  latter-day  tastes  of  the  old  fami- 
lies in  the  great  city. 

Did  you  ever  see,  in  one  of  those  galleries,  the 
portly  ancestor  with  the  ribbon  in  his  button-hole, 
and  did  you  take  it  for  so  mean  a  thing  as  a  decora- 
tion accorded  him  by  some  royal  numbskull  beyond 
the  salt,  salt  sea  ? 

That  was  your  own  blunder,  then,  for  it  was  fairly 
won  him  by  his  proud,  prize  pig,  at  a  great  and 
memorable  show  in  the  good  old  times  when  pork 
was  less  generally  diffused  through  our  social  struc- 
ture than  it  now  is. 

But  in  the  vicinity  of  Mr.  Dillaye's  own  residence 
there  was  just  as  creditable  a  sprinkle  of  old  fami- 
lies as  in  Mr.  Brown's  neighborhood,  with  the  dif- 
ference that  the  houses  were  more  closely  packed 
together,  and  some  people  even  lived  next  door  to 
one  another.  Fewer  opportunities,  of  course,  for 
the  disreputable  doings  of  tramps,  but  fewer  also 
for  the  acquisition  of  honorable  distinction  by  canine 
heroes  like  Prince. 

The  distance  between  the  two  settlements  of 
wealth  and  aristocracy  was  a  long  one,  and  the 
church  attended  by  the  related  families  was  about 
half-way  between,  and  only  to  be  reached,  comforta- 
bly, by  either,  in  their  respective  carriages. 


222  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

And  neither  Mr.  Brown  or  Mr.  Dillaye  had  ever 
been  known  to  express  any  feeling  of  regret  over 
this  feature  of  their  circumstances  in  life. 

On  this  particular  evening,  at  the  very  hour  when 
the  former  was  getting  away  from  his  home  as  fast 
as  he  could,  the  latter  was  expanding  the  courteous 
chill  of  his  presence  as  respectably  as  he  could 
around  the  dinner-table  of  his  own. 

He  was  assisted  by  a  tall,  large,  showy-looking 
woman,  who  did  not  seem  the  least  afraid  of  him, 
but  who  absolutely  appeared  to  be  absorbing  in- 
formation from  him  through  her  rusty  brown  eyes, 
even  when  he  was  not  saying  a  word. 

It  is  the  nature  of  sponges  to  absorb,  but  at  last 
she  concentrated  enough  of  what  she  had  obtained 
to  squeeze  out: 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  Mr.  Dillaye.  Not  a  word  con- 
cerning that  unfortunate  young  woman?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  I've  had  all  the  papers  brought  in,  and  I'm  posi- 
tive they  do  not  contain  the  slightest  hint." 

"  Not  the  slightest.  It  is  really  a  very  great 
mystery." 

"  Every  day  renders  the  certainty  more  absolute. 
We  shall  never  see  her  again." 

"You  forget  yourself,  Mrs.  Dillaye.  She  is  my 
daughter — " 

"  I  hope  I  forget  nothing,  Mr.  Dillaye.  Have 
you  heard  anything  more  from  Mr.  Brown  ?" 


CARRIE'S  OTHER  INHERITANCE.  223 

"No,  and  I  do  not  think  I  shall.  He  is  too  wise 
a  man  to  give  unpleasant  publicity  to  a  strictly 
family  affair.  As  to  any  other  kind  of  meddling, 
he  has  not  the  smallest  pretext  for  that." 

"Of  course  not.  We  have  done  our  whole  duty, 
and  we  can  prove  it." 

Something  like  a  wince  passed  over  the  well-dressed 
frame  of   Mr.  Dillaye  as  his  wife  emphasized  this 
last  remark,  but  he  was  momentarily  passing  more* 
and  more  completely   under  the   influence  of  her 
absorption. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  see  who  was  the  control- 
ling sponge  of  that  table  and  house. 

Would  those  two  have  sat  every  whit  as  com- 
fortably over  their  tea-cups,  at  the  close  of  their 
stately  meal,  if  they  could  have  known,  by  tele- 
phone or  otherwise,  just  what  was  passing,  during 
those  long,  aimless  minutes,  between  Mr.  Daniel 
Brown  and  his  deeply  interested  counsel? 

Perhaps  not,  for  Mr.  Allyn  said,  among  other 
things : 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  She  is  of  age,  and  mis- 
tress of  her  own  movements.  She  is  entirely  com- 
petent to  select  her  business  agent,  and  to  give 
him  full  power  of  attorney  to  manage  her  affairs. 
I  will  draw  one  in  due  form  before  you  leave  the 
office.  She  will  execute  it  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly.  Her  father  has  declared  to  me 
that  she  can  never  return  to  his  house.  In  that 


224  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

state  of  things  she  must  assume  control  of  her  pro- 
perty, obviously.  Any  other  course  would  be  out 
of  the  question.  It  is  in  precisely  the  same  con- 
dition as  was  that  of  my  own  wife.  You  have  at- 
tended to  that,  and  know  the  terms  of  the  old 
gentleman's  will." 

"  Exactly,  but  your  wife  left  no  children.  Did 
her  sister  have  any  other  besides  Caroline?" 

"  None,  so  that  her  right  is  beyond  dispute.  The 
very  house  he  will  not  let  her  into  is  her  own  un- 
questioned property.  So  also  is  a  good  share  of 
the  income  that  runs  it.  I  only  wish  I  knew  just 
how  Dillaye  has  been  doing,  financially,  of  late 
years." 

"  None  too  well,  I  fancy.  Hardly  anybody  has. 
But  will  he  not  try  to  regain  control  of  his  daugh- 
ter? It's  likely  he  will." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  him,  then,  that's  all.  The  first 
information  he  gets  of  her  whereabouts  ought  to 
be  a  somewhat  formal  one." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,  my  dear  sir.  He  is  the  last 
man  to  want  any  public  row  made.  Unless  he  is 
in  a  pretty  tight  place,  I  think  a  demand  will  be 
enough." 

"  You  do  not  know  Stephen  Dillaye,  then.  That's 
all  I've  got  to  say.  Nor  his  wife,  either." 

"  We  shall  see.  There's  no  possible  loophole  for 
him  to  escape  an  accounting.  Take  it  altogether, 
it's  one  of  the  most  remarkable  cases  I  ever  had 


CARRIE'S  OTHER  INHERITANCE.  225 

anything  to  do  with.  Even  your  discovery  of  your 
niece  is  not  the  least  singular  part  of  it.  How  does 
she  explain  it?  Did  she  ask  some  one  to  write  to 
you?  She  said  something  of  the  sort  to  me." 

"  No,  and  that  makes  me  think.  No  hurry  about 
it,  of  course,  but  one  of  the  hospital  assistants  was 
very  kind  to  her,  and  he  must  be  hunted  up.  A 
young  man  named  Rogers.  He  wrote  to  me,  she 
says.  Seemed  to  know  her,  and  me  too.  Very 
queer,  but  I  must  not  forget  a  favor  from  a  man  of 
that  sort." 

"  He  won't  forget  it,  if  you  do,  my  dear  sir. 
Hospital  assistants  on  the  Island  are  the  very  men 
to  report  themselves,  in  such  a  case,  the  very  first 
time  they  get  a  day  off  and  can  visit  the  city." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  Well,  if  he  does  not,  we  can  find  him  in  an 
hour,  any  day  we  want  him.  We  know  exactly 
where  to  look  for  him." 

So  they  did,  but  that  does  not  surely  imply  that 
they  knew  just  where  to  find  him.  Especially  if 
they  should  wait  till  his  sixty  days  ran  o-ut  before 
looking  for  him. 

The  lawyer  and  his  client  had  a  good  many 
things  to  talk  about,  and  the  more  confidentially 
they  talked  the  less  they  said  which  would  have 
been  pleasant  hearing  for  either  Carrie  Dillaye's 
father  or  stepmother.  If  there  is  anything  in  the 
old  up-country  superstition  worth  noticing,  there 


226  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

were  at  least  two  left  ears  that  should  have  been 
uncomfortably  warm.  And  yet  even  Fred  Heron- 
Rogers  did  not  experience  the  least  degree  of 
fever  on  the  right  side  of  his  head. 

There  must  be  something  wrong  about  the  su- 
perstition, or,  at  least,  it  is  like  some  men's  piety, 
and  does  not  always  work. 

Fred  Heron,  indeed,  was  not  thinking  of  himself, 
that  evening,  and  cared  very  little  whether  other 
people  were  talking  good  or  bad  concerning  him. 
Ever  since  he  had  ascertained  the  departure  of  the 
young  lady  patient  who  had  so  deeply  interested 
him,  he  had  been  in  a  decidedly  uncomfortable  state 
of  mind.  He  would  have  given  almost  anything  to 
be  sure  that  his  own  epistle  had  fallen  into  the 
right  hands,  and  that  she  had  followed  it  with  con- 
sequent security.  It  was  too  bad  that  he  should  be 
deprived  of  that  small  consolation. 

"  I've  done  all  I  could,  anyhow,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "A  fellow  in  jail  is  a  trifle  limited,  that's  a 
fact.  I  never  fully  appreciated  my  liberty  before. 
And  yet  JMiller  tells  me  the  tramps  come  back  reg- 
ularly, some  of  them,  and  get  themselves  shut  up 
for  the  winter.  Freedom  less  desirable  in  cold 
weather,  eh?  I  think  I  shall  try  and  keep  mine 
when  I  get  it  again.  I  wonder  if  I  c'  n  stand  it 
here  till  then?  Got  to,  I  suppose.  At  a  1  events,  I'm 
not  shut  up  very  closely.  I  believe  they'd  hardly 
say  a  word  if  I  strolled  all  over  the  Island." 


CARRIE'S  OTHER  INHERITANCE.  22/ 

A  doleful  day,  with  a  doleful  night  to  follow  it. 

Fred  could  not  have  imagined  that  such  a  sense 
of  utter  loneliness  was  possible  in  a  crowded  ward 
of  a  great  public  institution. 

Crowded,  indeed,  for  after  the  lights  were  turned 
down  he  peopled  the  dim  spaces  around  him  with 
all  the  forms  and  faces  he  had  ever  known. 

He  even  brought  in,  at  last,  the  library  at  Mr. 
Brown's,  and  imagined  himself  again  seated  at  the 
book-strewn  table.  It  was  not  a  very  difficult  men- 
tal feat,  but  then,  when  Mabel  Varick  came  in,  as 
on  that  memorable  evening,  he  could  not  shape 
Miss  Dillaye  as  entering  with  her  and  was  compelled 
to  turn-  anxiously  to  Mr.  Brown  with : 

"Where  is  your  other  niece?  I  wrote  to  you 
about  her." 

And  then,  without  any  imagination  at  all,  he 
turned  over  on  his  pallet  and  muttered  : 

"  I  hope  it's  all  right.  Bessie  would  say  she  is  in 
the  hands  of  Providence." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

OLIVER  PROTECTS  THE  MINE  IN  THE  DOCTOR'S 
ABSENCE. 

ALL  these  things  came  to  pass  in  the  great  city 
a  good  while  before  Dr.  Milyng  reached  or 
passed  the  thirsty  desert,  nor  had  the  -veteran 
mining  explorer  the  least  idea  that  he  was  at 
all  concerned  in  them  or  in  anything  else  be- 
yond the  reach  of  his  own  hawk-like  vision.  When 
he  awoke  from  the  long,  refreshing  sleep  called  for 
by  his  protracted  exertions,  he  found  himself  a 
trifle  stiff  and  sore,  but  this  soon  passed  away,  as 
he  busied  himself  with  preparations  for  his 
breakfast. 

The  pony  was  at  work  among  the  blue  grass 
around  one  of  the  pools,  and  seemed  entirely  satis- 
fied with  his  occupation.  So  much  so  that  he 
gently  and  suggestively  edged  away  when  his 
master  drew  near,  as  if  he  would  have  said  : 

"  There,  now,  don't  you  see  I'm  happy?     Why 
disturb  me,  then  ?     Let's  rest  awhile." 
228 


OLIVER  TAKES  THE  CHANCES.  229 

"  Rest  it'll  have  to  be,"  remarked  the  doctor.  "  I 
can't  say  exactly  where  we  are,  but  there's  a  good 
long  pull  before  us,  yet.  I  think  the  worst  is  over, 
but  I  must  get  him  in  good  condition  before  I  move 
on." 

Prudent,  but  difficult,  for  the  doctor's  thoughts 
were  busy  with  his  one  tremendous  enthusiasm  and 
the  conviction  was  growing  upon  him  that,  in  mining 
matters,  delays  are  dangerous. 

"  I  wouldn't  care  so  much  if  it  were  a  little 
later,"  he  soliloquized,  "  but  there's  time  yet,  this 
season,  for  almost  anything  to  turn  up.  The  luck 
of  it  has  followed  me  pretty  close,  thus  far,  but  there's 
something  going  wrong,  just  now.  I'd  like  to  take 
a  look  at  that  ledge  of  rocks,  I  would,  if  only  to 
know  they're  all  alone.  Poor  old  Oliver  !  I'm  afraid 
the  coyotes  have  picked  his  bones  clean  before  this. 
But  then  his  very  bones  might  help  point  somebody 
the  way  to  that  claim.  Pity  he  tumbled  down  right 
where  he  did." 

But  Oliver  and  his  bones  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  Nor  had  any  other  living  thing,  human  or 
quadruped.  It  was  just  that  ungovernable  chance, 
which  exercises  such  a  mysterious  control  over  the 
affairs  of  men  and  rocks,  which  led  those  three 
ragged  men  into  that  valley  while  Dr.  Milyng  was 
eating  his  broiled  venison,  so  many  miles  away. 
The  valley  itself  looked  a  good  deal  as  it  did  when 
the  doctor  marched  out  of  it,  and  the  mine  was 


230  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

there,  or  rather  the  wonderfully  promising  place  for 
one,  just  where  chance  had  gathered  the  ore  for  it 
in  the  first  place,  and  where  the  doctor  had  chanced 
to  find  it.  There,  too,  was  his  worn-out  pick,  just 
where  he  had  chanced  to  leave  it,  but  the  chapter  of 
accidents  did  not  include  the  bones  of  Oliver.  A 
wonderfully  calculating  brain  has  the  thing  called 
"  chance  !" 

And  those  three  men  had  as  many  mules  of  their 
own,  with  a  couple  of  very  spare  ponies,  and  they  too, 
the  men,  were  manifestly  of  the  mining  and  explor- 
ing persuasion. 

"  Wall,  boys,"  said  one  of  them,  "  we've  tracked 
him  good,  and  if  he's  lit  on  anything  yer  like  he 
did  in  the  other  places,  we  hain't  followed  him  for 
nothin' !  And  we  won't  be  the  first  lot  that's 
made  thar  pile  by  pickin'  up  what  he's  throwed 
away." 

"Wall,  thar's  his  marks,"  replied  another,  "and 
we  mought  jest  as  well  take  possession.  He'll  never 
come  back  for  it." 

"  What  if  he  does?  Hain't  he  abandoned  it,  I'd 
like  to  know  ?  What's  minin'  law  good  for,  if  a 
man's  to  let  a  thing  lie  and  not  work  it  ?  Besides,  he's 
bound  to  lose  his  hair,  some  day,  foolin'  round  the 
Sierras  all  alone." 

Very  strong  and  hearty  were  the  expressions  of 
assent,  but  already  busy  hands  were  getting  out 
tools  from  the  packs  on  the  starved-looking  animals, 


OLIVER  TAKES  THE  CHANCES.  23! 

and  it  was  evident  that  Dr.  Milyng's  precious  claim 
was  about  to  be  investigated. 

That  was  not  all. 

It  was  about  to  be  jumped. 

A  man  of  ordinary  agility  could  have  cleared  the 
traces  of  the  doctor's  solitary  toil  at  a  single  bound, 
but  that  was  not  the  precise  duty  in  hand. 

Terrible  are  the  misuses  of  human  speech,  and 
one  of  the  worst  is  perpetrated  when  a  hardy  miner 
is  said  to  "jump"  the  bit  of  rock  belonging  to  an- 
other man  which  he  feloniously  settles  on  and  digs 
into.  That  was  what  these  ragged  three  were  about 
to  happen  to  do. 

They  were  men  of  experience,  and  the  remarks 
they  dropped,  from  time  to  time,  showed  that 
they  not  only  knew  Dr.  Milyng,  but  had  an  un- 
bounded confidence  in  his  judgment  as  a  mining 
expert.  A  claim  on  which  he  had  wasted  such  an 
amount  of  labor  as  he  had  there  expended  hardly 
needed  any  additional  recommendation  in  their 
eyes.  If  it  had,  however,  their  own  rude  tests 
would  have  given  it,  before  they  had  worked  three 
hours. 

"  This  '11  do,  boys.  This  yer's  the  biggest  thing 
out  o'  doors." 

"  It's  too  good.  It's  a  sure  thing  the  doctor  '11 
come  back  to  look  after  it." 

"Don't  you  believe  it.  And  what  if  he  does? 
How's  he  to  prove  anything?  Wasn't  he  all  alone  ? 


232  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

I'd  like  to  see  how  he'll  work  it,  and  we  in  posses- 
sion." 

No  wonder  the  doctor  felt  a  sense  of  anxiety 
creeping  over  him  as  he  cut  another  slice  of  veni- 
son and  went  to  the  pool  for  another  cup  of  yellow 
water.  Chance,  and  the  luck  of  the  mine,  and  the 
whole  chapter  of  scientific  probabilities  were  arrang- 
ing themselves  dead  against  him.  There  was  not  a 
single  thing  for  him  to  do  to  protect  his  interests, 
and  those  three  enterprising  adventurers  were  hav- 
ing it  all  their  own  way. 

Everything,  mine  and  all. 

Everything  but  Oliver,  and  they  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  him. 

He  was  worth  all  three  of  their  mules  to  them, 
however,  with  the  two  spare  ponies  thrown  in,  for 
Oliver's  bones  were  his  own,  that  day,  and  the  Big 
Medicine  and  a  whole  swarm  of  his  devoted  con- 
gregation were  following  him  to  convince  him  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake. 

Oliver  had  made  good  time  over  that  same 
ground,  once  before,  to  his  own  and  his  master's 
sorrow,  but  that  had  not  prevented  him  from  taking 
advantage  of  the  temporary  carelessness  of  Big 
Medicine  and  trying  another  race. 

If  men  of  another  race  had  been  behind  him,  in- 
deed, he  might  have  been  sooner  caught,  but  the 
Apache  hunters  were  warriors  as  well,  and  it  speedily 
occurred  to  them  that  Oliver's  motions  were  guided 


OLIVER  TAKES  THE  CHANCES.  233 

by  some  kind  of  knowledge.  They  had  not  at  all  con- 
nected him,  in  their  own  minds,  with  the  daring  thief 
their  braves  had  driven  over  the  precipice,  and  yet 
somebody,  they  knew,  must  have  lost  him.  What 
if  he  should  now  guide  them  to  something  worth 
their  stealing?  More  than  one  squad  of  their  out- 
ranging buffalo  butchers  joined  them  as  they  pushed 
forward  on  the  heels  of  their  medicine-mule,  and  by 
the  time  he  entered  the  wooded  valley  they  were 
full  two  score,  with  the  Big  Medicine  at  their 
head. 

Oliver  knew  his  ground,  and  he  could  hardly  have 
managed  his  business  better  if  he  had  been  acting 
under  instructions  from  his  master.  Whether  or 
not  he  had  any  idea  of  recovering  the  doctor  him- 
self is  a  question  for  those  who  know  what  passes 
in  the  mind  of  a  mule. 

There  was  but  one  way,  that  one,  into  that 
strange  amphitheatre,  or  if  there  was  another  prac- 
ticable pass  nobody  then  present  knew  anything 
about  it.  And  so,  when  Oliver  led  his  Apaches  up 
the  narrowing  ravine  he  thereby  shut  up  the  only 
hope  of  escape  for  any  one  who  might  just  then 
happen  to  be  investigating,  or  jumping,  mining 
claims  in  the  ledges  beyond. 

It  was  a  singular  chance,  for  on  any  previous  day 
the  Apache  hunters  would  have  found  nothing  more 
valuable  to  them  than  some  odds  and  ends  of  worn- 
out  mining  tools,  and  a  heap  of,  broken  rock  for 


034  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

which  they  would  not  have  given  the  scalp  of  a 
jackass-rabbit. 

But  now,  there  were  three  men,  and  only  three, 
with  mules  and  ponies,  and  nothing  in  the  wide 
world  to  prevent  an  immediate  application  of  the 
true  intent  and  meaning  of  the  last  treaty  the  Apache 
tribes  had  made  with  their  Great  Father  at  Wash- 
ington. 

Nothing  whatever,  except  that  the  three  miners 
dropped  their  tools  and  picked  up  their  rifles  as  if 
they  intended  making  some  species  of  seditious 
protest. 

If  there  had  but  been  a  few  more  of  them,  or  if 
greater  time  had  been  given  them  for  preparation ! 

Men  who  venture  into  the  mountains  as  they  had 
done  are  not  likely  to  be  backward  in  matters  of 
self-defence,  and  the  first  whoop  which  came  echo- 
ing up  the  valley  had  warned  them  that  the  treaty 
was  in  full  force.  They  made  no  futile  attempt  at 
a  parley,  therefore,  but  each  man  sprang  towards 
the  best  cover  he  could  see,  leaving  the  quadrupeds 
and  the  mine  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

It  was  a  sad  thing  for  the  Big  Medicine,  just  then, 
that  he  was  not  mounted  on  Oliver,  or  at  least  on 
a  swifter  pony.  The  sorry  animal  he  rode  was  so 
slow  of  foot  that  almost  every  brave  of  the  faithful 
flock  went  clean  past  his  pastor  before  any  of  them 
were  within  rifle  range  of  the  miners.  It  was  best 
so,  for  what  place  has  a  chaplain  in  a  charge?  None 


OLIVER  TAKES  THE  CHANCES.  235 

at  all.  His  duties  come  afterwards,  when  the  dead 
are  to  be  buried  and  their  effects  divided.  The 
Big  Medicine's  slow  pony  was  of  special  value  to 
the  tribe,  just  then,  for  the  whooping  rider  whose 
bounding  steed  really  did  make  him  the  foremost 
man  rolled  off  upon  the  stony  level  at  the  first 
crack  of  those  three  rifles.  All  three  of  them  had 
been  pointed  at  him,  and  no  amount  of  medicine, 
big  or  little,  could  have  done  him  any  good. 

His  fall,  however,  did  not  check  the  rush  of  those 
wild  horsemen,  and  a  storm  of  arrows  and  bullets 
went  before  them.  The  three  white  men  had 
taken  cover  behind  the  same  bowlder,  and  it  was 
big  enough  for  twice  as  many,  but  the  closing  scene 
of  the  little  tragedy  was  thereby  concentrated  within 
very  narrow  limits,  both  as  to  time  and  space. 

Forty  men  on  horseback,  all  well  armed,  against 
three  on  foot,  and  the  latter  a  little  taken  by  surprise. 

They  were  not  taken  prisoners. 

They  had  been  congratulating  themselves  on 
their  luck,  a  few  minutes  before.  Fortune  had 
never  smiled  on  them  so  liberally  in-  all  their  lives. 
Such  wealth  was  theirs ! — but  that  Oliver  chanced 
to  get  away  from  Big  Medicine  just  when  he  did, 
and  so  many  yelling  red  men  happened  to  follow 
him. 

And  now,  three  corpses  reeking'in  the  hot  sun. 
Three  scalps  at  as  many  belts  of  savage  riders. 

A  mining  expedition  entirely  obliterated,  and  a 


236  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

great  claim  left  to  take  care  of  itself  without  so 
•much  as  a  single  man  to  "  jump"  it. 

Not  even  Oliver,  for,  having  accomplished  at 
least  as  much  as  he  set  out  for,  that  excellent  mule 
fraternized  with  those  of  the  miners  and  permitted 
Big  Medicine  to  mount  and  ride  him  homeward  in 
triumph.  For  on  this  occasion  also  the  great  man 
calmly  took  to  himself  the  credit  of  leading  the 
way  to  the  exploit  which  had  ended  so  gloriously. 
Nothing  was  said,  however,  about  the  dead  brave 
being  charged  to  his  account,  or  the  half-dozen 
shrewd  hurts  which  the  doomed  miners  had  distri- 
buted among  their  other  assailants.  These  things 
were  all  in  violation  of  the  treaty,  and  Big  Medicine 
had  nothing  to  do  with  them. 

Dr.  Milyng  did  not  know  a  word  of  it  all,  but 
his  claim  had  been  taken  care  of  for  him  in  a  re- 
markably opportune  way.  There  was  some  kind  of 
luck  about  that  mine. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  PARADE  AND  INSPECTION  ON  THE  SKIRMISH 
LINE 

IT  has  long  been  one  of  the  standing  marvels  of 
art  and  literature  that  Cornelia  should  have  been 
so  offensively  proud  of  two  little  heathen  Italian 
boys.  Mrs.  Boyce,  however,  had  given  herself  to  the 
collection  of  jewels  of  quite  another  sort,  and  it  was 
with  these,  rather  than  even  with  her  very  interest- 
ing wardrobe,  that  her  proposed  inspection  had 
to  do. 

There  was  no  unseemly  haste  or  urgency  in  her 
management  of  the  matter,  but  it  was  not  a  great 
while  after  lunch  that  Mabel  and  Carrie  found  them- 
selves smiled  all  the  way  up-stairs,  and  into  the 
ample  front  chamber  set  apart  for  the  uses  of  the 
widow  and  the  stranded  wreck  of  her  former  pros- 
perity. 

If  Mabel  Varick  was  really  beginning  to  organize 
herself  upon  a  skirmish  line  with  reference  to  her 
uncle's  fascinating  guest,  her  presence  in  that  cham- 
ber, after  those  caskets  and  cases  were  spread  upon 

237 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

the  centre-table,  was  a  grave  strategical  mistake. 
Neither  she  nor  her  wondering  cousin,  nor  their 
mothers  before  them,  had  ever  possessed  the  tithe 
of  such  a  collection.  In  good  truth  they  had  never 
seen  anything  like  it,  outside  of  a  shopkeeper's 
show  case. 

The  mere  pecuniary  value  was  no  small  considera- 
tion, and  would  have  made  quite  an  item  if  trans- 
ferred to  the  column  of  assets  of  the  late  firm  of 
Boyce,  Millington  &Co.,  but  there  it  did  not  belong 
by  any  known  rule  of  law,  or  any  practised  rule  of 
equity. 

Some  of  the  stones  were  superb,  and  all  were  fine, 
well  selected,  well  set,  and  in  perfect  order  and 
condition.  The  exposure  of  each  in  succession  to 
the  strong  light  now  thrown  upon  them  called  forth 
from  the  two  girls  the  most  enthusiastic  expressions 
of  admiration.  Mrs.  Boyce  had  pulled  down  the 
window  shades  and  lighted  the  argand  drop-light  on 
the  table  and  the  effect  was  all  the  most  experienced 
salesman  could  have  asked. 

"  Lovely!" 

"  Exquisite!" 

*  Perfect !  O  Mrs.  Boyce  what  will  you  do  with 
them  all?" 

"  Have  them  put  away  in  a  safe  place  now.  I 
wanted  you  to  see  them  first.  One  of  these  days  I 
must  sell  them.  That  is,  the  greater  part  of  them." 

"  How  sad—" 


THE  WID 0  W'S  JE IV EL S.  239 

"  Sad,  Mabel,  dear  ?  Yes,  it  makes  me  sad  enough 
at  times,  for  I  fear  I  am  a  very  worldly  woman.  But 
it  is  the  more  costly  of  them  that  I  can  part  with 
most  easily.  Perhaps  they  will  help  me  keep  the 
keepsakes." 

"Are  many  of  them  keepsakes?" 

"Yes,  Carrie,  I  was  a  bride,  once,  and  some  of 
these  came  to  me  then.  Some  before  marriage. 
Others  came  afterwards.  They  have  little  histories 
of  their  own,  my  dear — " 

And  then,  with  the  matronly  calmness  which  so 
well  became  her,  Mrs.  Boyce  repressed  her  feelings 
and  softly  rehearsed  to  her  young  friends  the  little 
romances  of  some  of  those  jewels.  Such  sacred 
names  came  up  as  she  did  so ! 

Father.  Mother.  Betrothal.  Marriage.  Husband, 
— others,  of  relative  and  friend.  A  favored  woman 
had  she  been  before  the  tide  of  her  life  began  to 
ebb  and  its  good  things  were  drifted  away  from 
her.  And  yet,  from  beginning  to  end,  she  uttered 
no  word  of  foolish  complaint,  and  gave  way  to  no 
single  spasm  of  false  sentiment.  Her  auditors  were 
compelled  to  confess  to  themselves  that  they  were 
listening  to  no  ordinary  woman.  They  even  failed, 
in  their  admiration  of  her  and  her  treasures,  to  ob- 
tain any  information  as  to  how  she  came  to  possess 
so  many  mere  diamonds  without  any  history  at  all. 
These,  indeed,  had  come  with  later  years  and  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  her  husband's  business 


240  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

affairs,  and  she  had  never  so  much  as  worn  them. 
They  were  quite  sure  to  bring  their  value,  or  very 
near  it,  should  their  sale  be  properly  managed  at 
some  future  day. 

There  was  little  or  nothing  said  about  this,  how- 
ever, and  when  Carrie  Dillaye  remarked: 

"  If  I  had  such  things  I  don't  believe  I  could  help 
wearing  them,"  Mrs.  Boyce  replied: 

"You  must  wear  this  garnet  cross  for  me,  dear. 
It  suits  your  complexion  exactly.  There  is  its  ex- 
act mate  in  torquoises,  Mabel;  that  is  for  you,  un- 
less you  would  prefer  this  pearl  cluster — " 

"O  Mrs.  Boyce—" 

u  Indeed,  I  cannot—" 

"  My  dear  young  friends — " 

There  was  a  little  cloud  of  pain  on  the  widow's 
face,  and  her  plump,  white  hand  unconsciously  shut 
down  the  cover  of  a  casket  wherein  a  diamond 
necklace  rested. 

They  looked  at  one  another  for  a  brief  second, 
and  she  added: 

"•'I  did  not  dare  to  offer  you  anything  more  valu- 
able. If  you  would  let  me  I  would  give  you  your 
choice  of  all,  but  I  was  afraid — " 

The  least  possible  tremor  in  the  clear  soft  voice, 
and  Mabel  Varick  picked  up  the  torquoise  cross. 
An  elegant  thing  it  was,  and  richly  set,  but  not  of 
too  large  a  mere  pecuniary  value.  Just  the  precise 
thing  to  be  selected  as  a  present  from  among  its 


THE  WID  OW'S  JE  WEL  S.  241 

more  showy  companion  gems  that  were  for  sale,  by. 
and-by. 

"  It  is  beautiful.  I  shall  prize  it  ever  so  much. 
It  is  prettier  than  even  the  pearls." 

"  I  never  saw  such  perfect  garnets,"  exclaimed 
Carrie.  "  The  color  is  so  rich,  and  they  are  so  very 
clear.  So  exquisitely  polished,  too.  Thank  you, 
ever  so  much !" 

And  even  while  their  two  pairs  of  hands  were 
busy  with  the  crosses  at  their  respective  throats, 
the  captured  girls  leaned  over,  one  after  the  other, 
to  kiss  the  graceful  donor  of  the  jewels.  They 
could  see,  as  they  did  so,  that  they  had  been  but 
just  in  time  to  keep  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and 
they  remembered  that  misfortune  has  its  privileges, 
and  that  one  of  them  is  to  be  a  trifle  sensitive  at 
times.  It  would  have  been  dreadfully  unkind 
of  them  to  have  refused  her  presents.  Mabel, 
indeed,  went  a  step  further,  in  the  reaction  of 
her  feelings.  She  had  removed  a  small  ruby 
brooch  to  make  room  for  the  cross,  and  now,  with 
another  kiss,  she  pinned  that  upon  the  widow's 
bosom. 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  make  both  of  them  feel 
better. 

Mabel,  oddly  enough,  felt  less  of  a  burden  of 
obligation,  and  Mrs.  Boyce  felt  better  assured  that 
her  torquoises  had  been  wisely  expended. 

Carrie  had  stepped  before  the  mirror  to  complete 


242  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

the  location  of  her  garnets,  and  she  could  but  be 
proud  of  them. 

"  Some  day,  my  dear,"  said  the  Avidow,  "you 
must  make  your  husband  get  you  earrings  to 
match.  I  never  had  complete  sets  of  either  of 
those  crosses." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  to  wait  as  long  as  that," 
said  Carrie,  merrily. 

"  Your  brooch  is  such  a  sweet  little  thing,  Mabel," 
said  the  widow,  as  she  took  it  off  and  held  it  to  the 
light.  "  I've  another  keepsake,  now.  They  are 
the  only  jewels  I  shall  ever  care  for  or  wear.  I 
wish  the  rest  of  them  were  all  sold  now,  but  I  must 
wait  awhile  for  that." 

And  then  the  talk  rippled  on,  and  the  two  girls 
were  astonished  to  find  how  much  the  widow  knew 
about  the  general  subject  of  pre.cious  stones.  She 
told  them  more  than  they  had  ever  known  before, 
and  in  so  interesting  a  way  that  they  ceased  to 
wonder  at  her  for  having  gathered  such  a  collection. 

The  caskets  were  closed,  one  by  one,  and  packed 
away  in  their  boxes,  and  those  were  placed  in  the 
bottom  of  a  trunk,  and  clothing  filled  neatly  in 
above  them. 

"O  Mrs.  Boyce,"  said  Mabel,  "I  should  think 
you  would  be  afraid  of  robbers." 

"  What,  in  your  house,  and  with  Mr.  Prince  in  the 
front  yard?  Well,  so  I  am,  and  so  I  shall  be,  till 
Mr.  Brown  helps  me  put  all  these  away,  somewhere. 


THE  WIDO  WS  JE  WELS.  243 

I  shall  ask  him  in  a  day  or  so.  Meantime  I  will 
show  you  something,  if  you  will  never  tell.  Re^ 
member,  I  have  been  a  lone  woman  for  two  years, 
not  even  so  well  protected  in  my  own  house  as  I  am 
here." 

And,  as  she  spoke,  she  pulled  open  a  little  upper 
drawer  of  the  bureau,  and  there,  reposing  in  their 
case  of  Russia  leather  and  velvet,  was  a  richly 
mounted  pair  of  revolvers.  Not  too  small  for  ser- 
vice, nor  too  large  to  be  carried  in  one's  pockets,  if 
need  should  be,  but  with  a  decided  flash  of  possible 
danger  on  their  blue  barrels  and  gilded  handles. 

"You  must  not  tell." 

"But  can  you  use  them?" 

"  I  will  show  you,  some  day.  I  can  hit  a  visiting 
card,  across  this  room,  almost  every  time." 

"But  in  the  dark?" 

"  A  burglar  is  larger  than  a  visiting  card." 

"  How  would  you  ever  get  to  the  bureau,  for  them, 
if  you  heard  a  noise  ?  I  should  cover  my  head  up." 

"  O  they  go  to  bed  with  me." 

"  But  would  you  really  dare  to  shoot  at  anybody  ?" 

"  I  fear  I  should  be  too  much  of  a  coward  not  to. 
It  must  require  a  wonderful  deal  of  courage  not  to 
shoot  sometimes." 

The  widow  was  right  about  that,  but  after  the 
pistol  drawer  was  closed  the  two  girls  began  to  be- 
lieve they  had  remained  long  enough. 

Still,  even  at  the  tea-table,  afterwards,  the  con- 


244 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


versation  ran  curiously  upon  jewelry  and  fire-arms 
and  kindred  topics.  Mrs.  Boyce  had  made  a  great 
point,  that  day,  and  her  young  friends  little  im- 
agined how  difficult  it  would  thenceforth  be  to  set 
up  again  the  barrier  they  had  thus  permitted  to  be 
thrown  down. 

There  came  a  later  hour,  however,  in  the  retire- 
ment of  their  own  room,  when  they  felt  called  upon 
to  re-examine  and  admire  again  their  respective 
presents  from  the  widow. 

"They  are  more  beautiful,  now  we  cannot  com- 
pare them  with  the  other  things,"  said  Mabel. 

"  It's  always  so.  That's  what  makes  shopping  of 
any  kind  so  difficult.  I  get  bewildered,  and  half  the 
time  I  pick  out  the  wrong  thing." 

u  Mrs.  Boyce  would  not.  She'd  get  just  the 
pattern  she  went  for,  in  spite  of  "anybody." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Mabel.  Which  of  us 
has  she  picked  out  ?" 

"  Carrie  Dillaye !  I  wish  she  had  her  crosses  back 
again." 

"I  do  not,  then.  I  shall  wear  mine.  If  I  had 
any  brooch  on  when  I  left  home  I  can't  guess  where 
it  is  now.  This  is  a  beauty.'* 

"  I  shall  wear  mine,  too.  She  would  feel  hurt  if 
I  did  not." 

"  Hurt,  Mabel,  are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"  Why,  she  is  certainly  not  heartless,  and  she  has 
plenty  of  pride.  I  must  not  be  unjust  to  her." 


THE  WIDO IV' S  JE  WELS.  24$ 

"  But  then,  if  one  gets  it  into  one's  head  once, 
that  any  other  person  is  designing,  it  goes  through 
every  idea  one  has  about  them." 

"Good  people  may  be  designing." 

"  So  they  may,  but  it  isn't  easy  to  see  always, 
just  where  the  good  leaves  off  and  the  designing 
begins." 

"  Not  with  women  like  Mrs.  Boyce,  at  all  events." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MR.  BROWN  HOLDS  OUT  HIS  HAND  WITH  AN  IN- 
VITATION. 

DAY  after  day  went  by,  containing,  as  all  days 
do,  a  great  many  matters  of  interest.     That 
is  the  difficulty  of  it.     All  matters  are  of  interest, 
but  they  cannot  all  be  recorded.     Life  is  both  too 
long  and  too  short  for  that. 

The  papers  prepared  by  Mr.  Allyn  were  signed  by 
Carrie  Dillaye,  without  a  thought  of  demur  or  hesita- 
tion, and  the  lawyer  had  his  instructions  from  Mr. 
Brown  to  lose  no  time  in  taking  the  steps  required. 

Mr.  Dillaye's  down-town  office  was  in  the  rear  of 
the  warehouse  in  which  the  greater  part  of  his  com- 
mercial business  was  transacted,  but  he  had  so  fitted 
it  up  that  it  wore,  like  himself,  a  thoroughly  well- 
dressed  and  respectable  air,  particularly  his  own 
little  den  in  one  corner  of  it. 

It  was  into  this  little  den,  one  day,  that  there 
entered  a  spruce  and  active-looking  young  gentle* 
man  with  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Dillaye?" 

"That  is  my  name,  sir." 
246 


WHERE  IS  M  Y  DA  UGH  TER  ?  247 

"All  right.  I  am  instructed  to  deliver  this  to 
you,  personally." 

"  Any  answer?" 

"To  be  sent  as  directed  in  the  inclosure,  I  sup- 
pose. I  am  not  aware  that  I  am  to  wait  for  one." 

"Very  well.     I'll  examine  it  at  my  leisure." 

The  young  man  had  been  even  hasty  in  his  with- 
drawal, and  Mr.  Dillaye's  eyes  were  absorbed  by  the 
large  envelope  he  was  tearing  open. 

When  he  began  to  read,  however,  his  absorption 
became  every  moment  more  and  more  intense.  It 
took  all  the  color  out  of  his  face,  and  then  put  it  all 
back  again,  with  interest  at  a  high  rate.  Then  it 
brought  out  a  more  profuse  perspiration  than  even 
the  heat  of  the  day  could  have  developed  upon  a 
man  of  Stephen  Dillaye's  organism.  It  made  'his 
hands  tremble  and  his  lips  quiver,  and  finally  made 
him  drop  the  paper  and  bow  his  head  upon  the 
desk  before  him. 

"Ruin!  Ruin!  Disgrace  !"  he  muttered.  "The 
black-hearted  villain.  He  has  planned  all  this.  The 
deep,  deceptive  scoundrel.  Turning  my  own  daugh- 
ter against  her  father.  And  that  man  calls  himself 
a  Christian !" 

Severe  language,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  it  had  been 
applied  to  no  less  a  man  than  Mr.  Daniel  Brown, 
and  had  been  called  forth  by  so  very  simple  a  docu- 
ment as  a  formal,  legal  demand,  on  the  part  of  one 
Caroline  Dillaye,  for  an  accounting  and  delivery  to 


248  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

her,  or  her  attorney  in  fact,  the  said  Daniel  Brown, 
of  certain  specified  and  described  properties,  real 
and  personal  and  mixed,  to  her  belonging,  and 
formerly  a  part  of  the  estate  of  her  mother,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  forth,  now  deceased. 

He  recognized  his  daughter's  signature,  as  well 
as  that  of  Mr.  Brown,  for  the  papers  served  upon 
him  were  originals,  to  prevent  question  or  denial 
on  his  part.  He  saw  that  either  would  be  impos- 
sible. 

''But  where  is  she?"  he  exclaimed,  springing  to 
his  feet.  "Where  has  she  been,  all  this  time?  I 
am  the  rightful  custodian  of  my  own  child !" 

When  a  child  becomes  of  age  it  ceases  to  have 
any  rightful  custodian,  but  for  all  that  Mr.  Dillaye 
seized  his  hat,  and  in  a  very  short  time,  for  a  man 
not  accustomed  to  fast  walking,  he  stood,  still  cov- 
ered, in  the  office  and  presence  of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown. 

"Ah,  Brother  Dillaye?  Glad  to  see  you.  This 
is  the  right  course  to  pursue.  We  can  settle  every- 
thing between  ourselves,  and  the  world  be  none  the 
wiser.  Take  a  chair." 

."No,   sir,   I   will    not.      Nor    your   hand    either. 
Where  is  my  daughter  Caroline,  Mr.  Brown?" 

"  I  believe  she  is  visiting  with  some  friends,  at 
present,  Brother  Dillaye.  She  has  put  all  her  af- 
fairs in  my  hands,  meantime.  I  merely  propose 
to  take  possession  of  them.  That's  all." 

"Take  possession  of  them?" 


WHERE  IS  MY  DA  UGH  TER  ?  249 

"  Every  dollar's  worth.  You  have  yourself  told 
me  she  can  never  come  back  to  your  roof.  I  shall 
see  to  it  that  she  has  one  of  her  own  to  cover  her." 

The  merchant  looked  his  visitor  calmly  in  the 
eyes  while  he  was  talking,  and  was  himself  aston- 
ished at  the  effect  his  words  seemed  to  produce. 

Could  it  have  been  that  then  for  the  first  time 
Mr.  Dillaye  received  a  clear  perception  that  his 
daughter  had  any  rights  in  the  premises  which  he, 
her  father,  was  bound  to  respect  ? 

If  so,  he  was  not  unlike  a  great  many  other  fath- 
ers, to  whom  their  children  never  assume  the  atti- 
tude of  fellow-citizens,  their  equals  before  God  and 
the  law.  Many  a  man,  who  would  scorn  the  thought 
of  depriving  any  human  being  of  aught  which  be- 
longed to  them,  will  nevertheless  pitilessly  rob  and 
plunder  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  cursing  them  if 
they  murmur  under  the  operation.  As  if  he  failed 
to  recognize  them  as  human  beings. 

But,  if  Stephen  Dillaye  was  then  and  there  in 
the  act  of  learning  something,  his  feelings  towards 
the  man  by  means  of  whom  he  was  learning  it  lost 
none  of  their  bitterness  as  the  new  ideas  came  to 
him. 

They  were  not  pleasant  ideas  to  receive,  and  they 
came  with  such  a  dreadful  pressure  of  Daniel  Brown 
behind  them.  Had  he  been  a  weak  man,  a  poor 
one,  a  man  who  could  be  argued  with,  cajoled, 
threatened,  pooh-poohed,  in  any  way,  it  would  not 


250  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

have  been  so  bad,  but  when  Daniel  Brown  held  out 
his  broad  palm  to  anybody  and  said,  ''Settle!"  it 
was  well  understood  by  all  who  knew  him  that  some 
kind  of  a  settlement  was  among  the  sure  things  of 
the  future. 

"  Mr.  Brown,  again  I  ask  you,  where  is  my  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  You  have  not  tried  so  hard  to  find  her  that  you 
have  much  to  say  on  that  head,  Brother  Dillaye. 
I  assure  you  she  is  in  the  hands  of  friends,  who  will 
not  only  take  good  care  of  her,  but  will  see  that 
she  is  protected  in  her  rights.  I  shall  send  for  her 
wardrobe,  this  very  day,  and  I  may  as  well  say  to 
you  that  the  gentleman  who  comes  for  it  will  b£ 
provided  with  proper  authority.  Whatever  he  asks 
for  had  better  be  surrendered  to  him  without  any 
nonsense.  I  do  not  think  you  would  care  to  get  into 
the  papers  for  refusing  your  daughter  her  clothing." 

Bitter  words,  to  be  spoken  so  calmly,  but  Mr. 
Dillaye  had  heard  all  he  could  hear  at  one  hearing. 
His  hands  were  clenched  till  the  nails  pierced  the 
skin,  and  his  teeth  were  grinding  audibly  as  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  strode  out  into  the  street. 

There  is  nothing  so  galls  a  proud  and  self-willed 
man  as  a  sense  of  utter  helplessness  in  the  hands  of 
another.  The  sense  of  wrong-doing  on  his  own 
part  does  not  by  any  means  ease  the  smart  of  it, 
and  any  degree  of  personal  hatred  is  the  worst  kind 
of  an  aggravation. 


WHERE  IS  M Y DA  UGH TER  ?  2$I 

Dillaye  had  it  all,  and  with  it  a  sense  of  shame 
concerning  his  treatment  of  his  daughter  which  had 
never  visited  him  before. 

And  for  this  also  he  was  indebted  to  the  calm  eyes 
of  Mr.  Brown. 

He  did  not  return  to  his  own  place  of  business, 
though  there  must  have  been  matters  there  which 
needed  his  attention,  but,  calling  a  cab,  he  ordered 
the  driver  to  make  his  best  speed  uptownwards. 
He  felt  that  it  was  a  good  time  for  him  to  have  a 
consultation  with  his  own  wife. 

And  Mrs.  Dillaye  herself  had  been  having  a  busy 
morning  of  it.  Day  after  day  she  had  grown  less 
and  less  anxious  concerning  the  whereabouts  of  her 
missing  stepdaughter.  Whatever  remarks  she  had 
felt  called  upon  to  make  in  that  connection  had  been 
merely  such  as  were  calculated  to  sustain  the  just  in- 
dignation of  a  respectable  father  whose  unworthy 
daughter  had  got  drunk  and  run  away  from  home. 
Day  after  day,  too,  she  had  realized  the  obligation 
resting  upon  her  to  make  things  generally  cheerful 
for  her  husband,  so  that  he  might  not  dwell  too 
gloomily  upon  his  heavy  affliction.  But,  for  all 
that,  Mrs.  Dillaye  had  never  before,  since  her  mar- 
riage, realized  as  she  was  now  doing,  the  fact  that 
she  was  once  for  all  mistress  of  that  mansion.  A 
sense  of  proprietorship  was  creeping  over  her,  and 
she  had  more  than  once  muttered  to  herself: 

"  Even  if  things  went  wrong  in  the  business,  none 


252  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

of  Mr.  Dillaye's  creditors  could  touch  this  property. 
I'm  glad  he  has  never  compromised  it  in  any  way. 
She  will  never  come  back  after  it." 

It  was  under  that  impression,  doubtless,  that 
Carrie's  stepmother,  on  this  particular  morning,  per- 
formed such  a  remarkable  piece  of  housework  in 
and  about  Carrie's  own  room. 

"  Better  pack  them  all  up  and  store  them  away, 
for  the  present,"  she  said,  as  she  put  article  after  ar- 
ticle of  dress  and  ornament  into  the  great  trunks  she 
brought  in. 

"  I  wouldn't  touch  a  thing  of  'em,  not  if  the 
moths  ate  'em  all  up.  But  I  won't  have  'em  lying 
around  where  her  poor  father  can  see  'em.  Even 
if  they  were  put  in  the  closets,  he'd  be  sure  to 
stumble  on  to  them  some  time." 

It  is  likely,  moreover,  that  Mrs.  Dillaye  flattered 
herself  that  something  of  a  sentiment  of  personal 
honesty  entered  into  the  considerations  which  led  her 
to  pack  those  trunks  so  carefully.  It  was  no  small 
job,  albeit  Carrie's  wearing  apparel  had  not  been  at 
all  scattered  around  the  house,  but  was  contained, 
on  the  contrary,  within  the  narrow  limits  of  her 
own  private  domain. 

When  all  was  done,  and  Mrs.  Dillaye  sat  down  on 
one  of  the  ample  "  Saratogas"  to  think  about  it,  she 
remarked  to  herself : 

"  What  a  terrible  thing  wine  is.  To  think  of 
her  inheriting  such  a  taste  for  it  that  she  could 


WHERE  IS  M  Y  DA  UGHTER  ?  253 

not  keep  her  hands  off  from  my  own  brandy  flask 
when  it  happened  to  come  in  her  way.  And  it 
couldn't  have  tasted  very  good,  either,  with  what 
was  in  it." 

Wine.     That  was  what  she  called  it. 

And  yet  Carrie  Dillaye  had  not  inherited  a  taste 
for  "wine,"  and  there  had  not  been  a  drop  of  it  in 
the  fatal  flask  which  came  a  little  more  than  "  in  her 
way."  And  many  a  human  being  goes  down  to  the 
gutter,  and  lower  still,  and  he  and  his  friends  lay 
the  curse  of  it  upon  "  wine,"  a  liquid  of  which 
neither  he  nor  they  know  the  taste. 

But  Mrs.  Dillaye  was  about  to  comfort  herself 
with  some  additional  remarks  upon  the  subject  of 
intemperance  and  its  manifold  evils,  when  she  heard 
the  sound  of  a  well-known  foot  on  the  stairs,  and 
hastily  slipped  from  her  not  very  graceful  perch  on 
the  Saratoga.  Even  for  a  tall  woman,  it  was  a 
pretty  high  seat. 

"  Mr.  Dillaye  !  Why,  what  can  have  brought  you 
home?" 

"This  did,  and  I  think  you  may  read  it  for  your- 
self." 

"  This"  wras  the  legal  document  he  had  received, 
that  morning,  and  it  was  no  wonder  he  preferred 
his  wife  should  read  it,  rather  than  himself  unfold 
to  her  its  unpleasant  contents. 

Rapidly  her  rusty-brown  eyes  ran  from  line  to 
line,  down  more  than  one  long  page,  and  at  first 


254  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

it  seemed  as  if  she  were  trying  to  hold  her  breath 
till  she  got  through.  That  proving  an  impossibility, 
she  still  employed  so  little  air  in  her  reading  that 
when,  at  last,  she  crushed  the  paper  in  her  hand 
she  could  only  gasp: 

"  Mr.  Brown  !     Stephen.     Mr.  Brown  !" 
"  The  old  villain  !     Yes,  it's  his  work." 
"  Have  you  seen  him?     Where  is  Caroline?" 
"  I've  seen  him,  but  he  refused  to  tell  me." 
"Then  she's  at  his  house.    We  must  see  her,  Mr. 
Dillaye." 

"  I  would  not  cross  his  threshold !" 
"  But  we  mast  make  her  cross  it.     Why,  she  has 
not  even  her  clothes — " 

"  I  expect  a  man  here  for  them  any  minute. 
There's  the  door-bell,  now.  I  hurried  home  to  tell 
you." 

"  Not  a  stitch  of  them  shall  go  out  of  the  house 
till  she  comes  for  them." 

"  We  cannot  help  ourselves,  my  dear.  It  is  a 
legal  proceeding.  If  we  do  not  give  them  up  they 
will  be  taken  by  force.  Trust  Daniel  Brown  for 
that.  The -cast-iron  old  scoundrel." 

The  servant  who  answered  the  door-bell  was 
coming  up  now,  and  Mr.  Dillaye's  surmise  proved 
correct.  The  young  gentleman  from  Mr.  Allyn's 
office  had  brought  a  carman  with  him,  and  had  his 
employer's  instructions  to  permit  no  trifling. 

"  They  are  all  ready  for  her,"   exclaimed   Mrs. 


WHERE  IS  M  Y  DA  UGH TER  ? 

Dillaye,  with  a  suddenness  of  acquiescence  which 
astonished  her  husband.  "  E\  erything  is  in  these 
trunks.  You'd  better  take  them  all." 

(t  Mrs.  Djllaye,  will  it  not  do  as  well  to  send  one 
of  them  ?" 

c  And  have  her  accuse  me  of  holding  back  some- 
thing? No,  indeed.  She  shall  have  every  rag.  And 
then  we  must  see  her  ourselves.  I  tell  you  she  is 
there." 

There  was  work  to  be  done  in  getting  those 
trunks  on  the  dray,  for  they  contained  old  clothes 
as  well  as  new,  and  winter  outfit  as  well  as  that 
adapted  to  the  season,  and,  by  the  time  the*young 
man  from  Allyn's  set  out  with  his  prize,  Mr.  Dillaye 
was  already  half-way  to  Mr.  Brown's  in  the  cab. 
Not  that  he  had  any  idea  of  then  entering  the 
house,  but,  an  hour  and  a  half  later,  he  was  able  to 
say  to  his  \vife  : 

"  I  did  precisely  as  you  requested,  and  I  saw  the 
dray  stop  in  front  of  Mr.  Brown's  gate." 

"Then  we  must  call  there,  to-morrow,  just  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  and  Caroline  herself  had 
sent  for  us." 

Mr.  Dillaye's  face  was  a  study  as  he  listened,  but 
discipline  was  fully  vindicated  in  the  fact  that  he 
made  no  open  sign  of  dissent.  If  he  made  none 
then,  it  was  safe  to  say  that  he  would  not  on  the 
morrow,  but  it  is  not  always  wise  to  put  off  un- 
til the  morrow  what  can  just  as  well  be  done  to-day 


256  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

When  Mr.  Brown  came  to  dinner  that  afternoon, 
almost  his  first  question  was : 

"  Mabel,  did  Carrie's  things  come?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  and  she  and  I  and  Mrs.  Boyce  have 
been  sorting  and  packing,  ever  since.  We  will  be 
all  ready  to  start,  in  the  morning." 

"  Well,  dear,  a  few  weeks  in  the  mountains  will 
be  good  for  all  of  you.  Sorry  I  cannot  go  right 
away,  but  you'll  see  me  before  long.  I  had  a  talk 
with  Mr.  Dillaye,  to-day,  but  I  won't  say  anything 
about  it  just  yet." 

He  had  to  before  the  evening  was  over,  and  it 
was  anything  but  agreeable,  even  though  Carrie 
tried  hard  to  seem  composed,  and  kept  most  of  her 
crying  for  her  own  room. 

There  was  no  change  made  in  the  programme, 
however,  and  when,  the  next  day,  while  Mr.  Brown 
was  about  his  business,  a  lady  and  gentleman  called 
to  see  Miss  Dillaye,  all  the  answer  they  could  get 
from  the  staid  servant  at  the  door  was: 

"The  ladies  is  all  gone  to  the  country,  mum.  I 
don't  know  when  they'll  be  back.  Not  for  some 
weeks,  mum." 

And  "the  country"  is  so  very  wide ! 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  VERY  STORMY  PASSAGE. 

SLOWLY,  one  after  another,  the  summer  days 
went  by,  there  in  the  city.  Almost  as  slowly 
as  to  Dr.  Milyng  himself,  among  his  rocks  and 
deserts.  But  all  the  while  Mr.  Brown's  plans  and 
ideas  were  working  themselves  into  a  more  magnifi- 
cent system  of  confusion  in  that  clear,  practical  and 
benevolent  head  of  his.  He  saw  more  and  more, 
as  he  studied  the  matter,  what  tremendous  things 
he  was  capable  of  doing,  if  he  only  had  money 
enough  for  them,  and  again  and  again  were  his 
growing  trays  of  specimens  brought  out  upon  the 
library  table  to  be  studied  over. 

He  was  alone  now,  and  the  evenings  were  too 
warm  to  read  with  any  comfort,  and  almost  every- 
body he  knew  was  out  of  town. 

The  matter  of  Carrie  Dillaye's  estate  was  going 
forward,  but  a  little  slowly,  for  he  still  hoped  to 
secure  a  settlement  without  the  business  getting 
into  the  courts  and  the  newspapers.  As  to  the 

257 


258  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Boyce  affair,  that  required  little  further  attention, 
as  there  was  no  prospect  that  the  widow  would 
ever  receive  any  other  consolation  than  a  release 
from  any  claim  upon  her,  individually.  That  would 
come,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  due  time,  and  Mr. 
Allyn  would  see  that  nothing  was  overlooked. 

But  Mr.  Brown  had  more  than  a  little  business  of 
his  own,  which  required  attention  and  settlement, 
especially  if  he  was  ever  to  do  anything  with  those 
philanthropic  dreams  of  his.  Even  if  he  should  not, 
these  were  times  when  careful  men  looked  closely 
to  their  investments,  and  were  disposed  to  trust  as 
little  as  might  be  to  the  hands  and  brains  of  sub- 
ordinates. 

But  if  time  travelled  slowly  elsewhere,  his  feet 
lingered  with  multiplied  loads  of  lead  and  other 
heavy  material  among  the  wards  of  the  hospital  on 
the  Island.  Not  even  the  most  faithful  and  zeal- 
ous discharge  of  his  duties  among  the  patients 
availed  to  relieve  Fred  Heron  of  the  intolerable 
sense  of  duration  which  seemed  to  be  crushing  him. 

The  days  had  already  lengthened  into  weeks,  and 
these  were  a  good  deal  more  like  centuries  to  look 
back  upon,  while  those  which  were  yet  to  come  be- 
fore the  termination  of  his  sentence  were  ages  and 
ages  to  face. 

"What  an  awful  thing  a  life-sentence  must  be," 
he  muttered,  as  he  lay  awake  in  the  growing  light 
of  one  cloudless  morning.  "  And  yet  there  is  one 


OUT  WITH  THE  TIDE.  259 

relief  there.  The  very  absence  of  hope  must  be 
something.  One  could  get  a  sort  of  resignation 
out  of  that.  I'm  used  to  being  forgotten,  but  I 
haven't  acquired  the  faculty  of  forgetting  myself. 
That's  what's  the  matter.  I'm  looking  forward  to 
some  sort  of  life  to  come.  This  isn't  life.  And 
yet  I've  done  what  I  could  for  these  poor  fellows. 
Even  the  surgeon  told  me  he  hoped  I'd  get  myself 
convicted  again  as  soon  as  possible.  So  I  shall,  if  I 
see  another  policeman  pounding  a  sick  man.  But 
what's  this  ?  I  haven't  had  a  touch  of  it  before  for 
a  fortnight.  Perhaps  a  cup  of  coffee  will  help  me 
throw  it  off." 

Perhaps.  It  had  done  so,  in  part,  at  least,  on  one 
or  two  occasions,  for  "  this  "  of  which  he  was  con- 
scious was  simply  a  return  of  that  old  inward 
opium-gnawing  with  which  he  had  wrestled  so  often. 
He  could  have  gratified  it  now,  without  much  diffi- 
culty, for  there  were  all  sorts  of  things  in  the  dis- 
pensary, and  the  hospital  assistants  had  their  privi- 
leges. Hardly  any  one  seemed  to  remember,  nowa- 
days, that  he  was  a  convict,  and  Miller  treated  him 
with  a  half-way  sort  of  respect,  as  a  man  who  must 
really  be  somebody,  if  ever  he  should  get  out  of  his 
bad  luck.  Miller  had  known  all  sorts  of  men  to 
take  a  brief  vacation  on  the  Island,  and  the  great 
world  they  had  left  be  none  the  wiser  for  it. 

One  of  the  consequences  of  Fred's  hospital  occu- 
pation, as  well  as  of  his  exceptional  steadiness  and 


26o  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

good  behavior,  had  been  that  he  was  now  a  privi- 
leged character,  not  the  only  one  by  a  good  many, 
with  a  pretty  free  run  of  the  whole  water-guarded  area. 

And  pretty  well  the  water  guarded  it,  too,  with 
its  strong  tides,  its  powerful  eddies,  its  absolute  cer- 
tainty of  drowning  nine  men  out  of  ten  who  should 
fall  into  it,  and  the  added  certainty  that  lynx-eyed 
policemen  were  patrolling  the  opposite  banks  to 
whom  a  man  in  convict  garb  or  even  in  wet  clothing 
would  surely  be  an  object  of  curiosity. 

But  Fred  was  not  in  convict  garb,  and  he  had  more 
than  once  gazed  into  that  water  at  the  "  slack," 
when  the  eddies  were  still,  and  the  straws  on  the 
surface  barely  moved,  and  he  had  thought  how  short 
a  swim  would  give  him  at  least  a  chance  of  liberty. 
And  with  it,  too,  a  chance  of  being  sent  back  again 
for  a  longer  term  and  under  less  favorable  circum- 
stances. 

Reason  had  repeatedly  urged  him  to  wait,  those 
few  remaining  days,  and  he  had  waited,  heroically, 
and  perhaps  he  would  still  have  waited  if  it  had 
not  been  for  that  singular  return  of  his  malady. 

It  is  one  of  the  curious  phenomena  of  chronic 
narcotic  poisoning,  so  to  describe  it,  that  the  return 
of  .the  hunger  itself,  after  long  abstinence,  brings 
with  it  some  of  the  mental  and  physical  effects  more 
or  less  fully  developed,  of  a  dose  of  the  poison. 
That  is  one  reason  why  precisely  the  same  antidote 
may  often  be  employed  with  effect. 


OUT  WITH  THE  TIDE.  26 1 

The  same  is  true, .to  a  less  degree,  with  alcoholic 
poisoning.  The  symptoms  vary  so  much,  however, 
in  different  cases,  that  there  is  little  wonder  profes- 
sional men  are  at  such  loggerheads  about  it  all.  Each 
man  reasons  from  his  own  experience  and  observa- 
tion, and  sometimes  these  are  worth  a  good  deal 
more  than  they  are  at  other  times. 

In  Fred  Heron's  present  case  his  cup  of  contract 
coffee  gave  him  a  little  temporary  relief.  It  might 
have  given  him  more  if  there  had  been  more  coffee 
in  it,  but  it  was  a  species  of  Java  and  Mocha, 
mixed,  of  which  the  vender  might  truthfully  have 
declared  : 

"  No  chiccory  in  this.  Give  you  my  word.  This 
is  the  genuine  bean." 

So  it  was,  but  not  all  beans  are  alike  in  the  ef- 
fect of  soup  made  from  them  upon  the  disordered, 
or  ordered,  human  system. 

And  so,  as  Fred  proceeded  with  the  punctual  dis- 
charge of  his  daily  duties,  his  old  enemy  grew  to 
larger  and  larger  proportions  within  him,  till  his 
hand  shook  and  his  step  became  uncertain.  He 
made  a  tremendous  effort,  for  he  knew  he  would 
have  a  chance  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  by-and-by, 
and  he  longed  for  a  look  at  the  walls  and  spires  of 
the  city. 

A  busy  day,  with  a  number  of  new  arrivals,  some 
of  them  very  interesting  cases,  and  it  was  later  than 
usual  before  the  opportunity  came.  When  it  did, 


262  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

he  had  to  take  it  carefully,  so  that  no  man's  atten- 
tion was  attracted  to  him  as  he  drew  nearer  and 
nearer  the  unwalled,  unguarded  edge  on  which  he 
was  so  hungry  to  stand.  As  yet,  not  a  thought  of 
anything  more  had  entered  his  mind,  for  it  was  still 
broad  daylight,  and  the  tide  was  rushing  out  with 
even  more  than  its  usual  violence. 

O  how  beautiful  the  city  looked — the  great  city, 
by  which  such  men  as  he  were  so  utterly  forgotten 
on  principle.  He  drew  in  his  breath  painfully  as 
he  stood  there  all  alone,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had 
never  been  so  much  alone  in  his  life.  Forgotten  by 
even  the  keepers  of  the  prison.  He  wondered  if 
indeed  any  one  really  remembered  him.  And  then 
he  felt  the  rising  within  him  of  a  strong,  painful, 
almost  agonizing  exhilaration,  and  with  it  came  a 
thought  that  was  full  of  despairing  temptation. 

"  If  it  were  only  night  !  If  it  were  but  dark  !  I 
could  not  more  than  die,  and  that  would  surely 
bring  me  a  sort  of  freedom.  Would  it,  though  ? 
How  about  suicide  ?  Would  it  be  suicide  if  I  got 
drowned  ?  I  wonder  where  they  go  to — " 

He  had  not  been  looking  up,  or  he  would  'have 
seen  that,  even  before  he  left  the  hospital,  the  sum- 
mer sky  had  begun  to  exhibit  symptoms  of  an  ap- 
proaching change.  There  are  no  storms  so  terrible 
as  those  which  gather  in  the  hearts  of  men,  but  now 
and  then  an  August  afternoon  will  give  the  world 
a  very  fair  material  imitation  of  them.  One  of  these 


OUT  WITH  THE  TIDE.  263 

was  coming  now,  and  any  sensible  convict  would 
have  sought  the  shelter  of  his  prison,  as  every 
keeper  and  patrol  had  already  done,  for  the  sky 
was  as  black  as  the  cap  the  old-time  judges  wore 
when  they  sentenced  men  to  be  hung  for  sheep- 
stealing. 

Fred  had  noticed  nothing  of  it  all,' but  he  saw 
that  the  angry  flood  before  him  was  growing 
strangely  dark  and  menacing,  except  where  it  was 
streaked  with  livid  lines  of  foam.  The  air  was 
charged  with  electricity  and  all  his  nerves  were  so 
many  galvanic  points  prepared  to  receive  it. 

Does  not  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body  sometimes 
take  in  from  an  outer  atmosphere  of  its  own  some 
subtle  fluid  which  prepares  it  for  explosive  action? 

Fred  Heron  felt  as  if  he  were  full  of  something. 
Full  to  bursting. 

There  was  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by 
such  a  stunning  thunder  crash  as  made  him  start 
back  from  the  edge  of  the  water  and  look  around 
him. 

Had  night  indeed  come? 

Something  like  darkness  had,  and  in  a  moment 
more  not  only  the  city  over  yonder,  but  the  gray 
buildings  on  the  Island  were  hidden  from  him  by 
blinding  sheets  of  plunging  rain. 

He  stepped  forward  again. 

It  was  less  than  four  feet  from  tile  level  of  the 
bank  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  but  he  could  only 


264  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

see  the  hissing,  foaming  rush,  as  the  torrent  from 
above  smote  the  offended  torrent  below. 

Fred  Heron  was  a  good  swimmer,  with  enough 
of  practice  to  know  precisely  the  nature  of  the  risk 
he  was  running,  but  he  never  thought  of  either  his 
own  skill  or  the  terrible  danger. 

The  thunder  pealed  again,  in  a  long,  continuous 
roll,  and  the  lightning  made  blue  clefts  in  the  glit- 
tering walls  of  the  falling  rain.  That  was  the  last 
thing  he  saw  as  he  yielded  to  the  storm  within  him 
and  without  him,  and  sprang  with  a  fierce  shout  from 
the  stone  sea-wall  of  the  Island. 

It  was  well  he  made  a  leap,  for  the  impetus  of  it 
carried  him  to  the  further  side  of  a  somewhat  dan- 
gerous eddy,  and  within  the  power  of  the  out-rush* 
ing  tide.  What  a  power  that  was  when  he  felt  it 
grasp  him. 

No  living  swimmer  could  have  done  more  than 
keep  himself  on  its  sur'face  as  it  bore  him  swiftly 
away. 

"  It'll  carry  me  out  to  sea  if  I  let  it  have  its  own 
will,"  he  thought,  as  he  strove  to  direct  his  course 
towards  the  opposite  shore.  "  If  it  isn't  running 
six  miles  an  hour  and  more,  I'm  mistaken." 

More  than  that,  just  there,  but  not  so  fast  in  the 
wider  waters  below.  It  was  one  result  of  the  heavy 
rain,  however,  that  but  little  sea  was  running,  in 
spite  of  the  wind.  There  was  very  small  danger, 
or  hope  either,  that  he  would  be  seen  by  anybody. 


OUT  WITH  THE  TIDE. 


265 


"  I  must  look  out  for  ferryboats  and  other  craft," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  If  I  go  under  one,  or  if  one 
goes  over  me,  it'll  be  all  day  with  me." 

It  was  hard  work,  for  even  a  good  swimmer,  and 
Fred  was  beginning  to  feel  anxious.  He  had  not 
the  least  idea  how  far  he  had  been  carried,  but  he 
was  keenly  aware  of  one  other  thing — every  trace 
of  his  unpleasant  internal  sensations  had  disappeared 
and  he  felt  like  shouting: 

"Victory!" 

Just  then  a  huge,  misty  object  loomed  up  before 
him;  and  he  was  compelled  to  pull  with  all  his  re- 
maining strength  to  avoid  being  swept  against  the 
hull  of  a  vessel,  moored  in  the  stream.  He  saw  no 
one,  and  he  had  not  made  up  his  mind  whether  or 
not  to  shout  for  help,  when,  as  he  reached  the  stern, 
he  saw  a  yawl-boat  fastened  to  it  by  a  painter. 

That  would  do,  admirably,  but  when  he  clam- 
bered over  the  side  he  was  compelled  to  throw  him- 
self flat  on  the  bottom,  utterly  exhausted,  although 
the  water  was  several  inches  deep.  It  was  a  very  grate- 
ful feeling,  that  of  having  something  buoyant  be- 
tween him  and  death,  and  he  lay  as  if  the  mere 
pelting  of  the  rain  were  a  luxury. 

Just  how  long  it  was  he  could  not  have  told, 
precisely,  but  he  became  conscious,  after  awhile, 
of  another  motion  than  the  rocking  of  the  waves, 
and  he  raised  his  head. 

There  was  no  ship  in  sight  over  the  prow  of  the 


266  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

boat.  The  painter  was  free.  It  bad  been  carelessly 
secured,  and  he  had  helped  loosen  it  in  climbing  in. 
There  were  oars  in  the  boat  and  he  knew  how  to 
use  them,  but  nothing  could  have  been  more  hopeless 
than  an  effort  to  restore  that  yawl  to  her  owners, 
just  then,  and  he  did  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  It 
would  have  been  a  more  hopeless  task  than  even 
Fred  himself  imagined,  for  she  had  been  in  the 
temporary  service  of  the  tramps  of  the  harbor,  and 
when  the  crew  of  that  ship  returned  on  board,  after 
the  storm,  they  had  small  difficulty  in  capturing 
three  half-drunken  river-thieves  who  had  been 
trapped  at  their  vocation  by  giving  the  painter  of 
their  stolen  boat  so  very  tipsy  a  hitch.  But  Fred 
Heron  knew  nothing  of  all  that.  His  only  ambi- 
tion was  to  get  ashore  somewhere  without  attract- 
ing too  much  attention,  and  he  knew  he  could  do 
that  best,  if  he  got  ashore  at  all,  while  it  was  still 
raining  hard. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  PERMANENT  PROVISION  MADE  FOR  TWO  OF  THE 
MINOR  CHARACTERS. 

THE  one  peculiar  thing  about  a  clock  is  that  it 
ticks  right  on,  without  the  slightest  reference 
to  the  human  experiences,  few  or  many,  which  may 
or  may  not  be  crowded  into  the  hours  it  measures. 

There  were  clocks,  for  instance,  in  the  western 
home  which  Bessie  Heron  had  provided  for  herself, 
and  they  continued  to  tick  for  her  after  she  had 
written  every  letter  which  her  sense  of  duty  called 
for.  And  after  that,  of  course,  she  felt  called  upon 
to  do  something  for  the  clocks.  That  is,  she  deter- 
mined to  make  the  best  possible  use  of  her  time, 
and  so  she  said  to  her  hospitable  friends. 

She  had  soon  discovered  that  they  had  responsi- 
bilities and  connections  of  their  own.  Strange  as  it 
seemed,  at  first  sight,  their  family  relations  had  been 
planned  fcr  them  in  gross  disregard  of  such  possi- 
bilities as  the  advent  of  Bessie  Heron,  and  they 
were  in  grave  danger  of  other  visitors  to  come. 

267 


268  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Had  Fred  been  the  man  he  should  have  been, 
and  never  exposed  himself  to  the  wretched  casual- 
ties of  war  and  sickness  and  consequent  disability 
of  all  sorts,  this  would  have  made  no  difference,  but 
as  it  was,  Bessie  foresaw  a  coming  necessity  for  ac- 
tion on  her  part.  And  she  was  a  young  woman  of 
action.  She  had  always  been.  She  was  fond  of 
saying  so.  She  had  taken  care  of  herself,  at  the 
expense  of  others,  for  ever  so  long,  in  spite  of  the 
misconduct  of  various  members  of  her  own  family. 
She  was  ready,  now,  to  continue  her  glorious  work, 
and  all  she  asked  for  was  her  work  room. 

If  there  was  one  thing  in  which  she  was  without 
a  rival,  it  was  the  management  of  children,  provided 
she  could  have  unobstructed  control.  In  spite  of 
all  manner  of  obstructions,  she  had  brought  up  her 
father,  uncles,  brothers,  and  quite  an  extended 
list  of  her  male  connections,  not  to  speak  of 
outside  parties,  and  now  she  was  absolutely  hungry 
for  a  fresh  engagement.  Nor  could  one  be  long 
in  making  an  offer,,  in  a  western  city,  where  young 
women  of  her  stamp  must  necessarily  be  like  the 
visits  of  other  angels,  far  and  few  between.  Very 
few. 

A  middle-aged  widower,  with  children  on  his 
hands.  A  good  house,  plenty  of  money,  business  to 
attend  to,  frequent  absences  from  home.  That  was 
a  mission  field  for  which  Bessie  Heron  was  willing 
to  have  sacrificed  anything  except  the  duty  and 


FROM  DESERT  TO  WILDERNESS.  269 

privilege  of  writing  to  and  talking  about  her  erring 
relatives,  and  she  entered  upon  it  with  a  great  sigh 
of  admiration. 

Not  of  the  mission  field,  but  of  her  heroineism  in 
undertaking  it. 

She  wrote  about  it  to  Mrs.  Baird  and  to  other  of 
her  friends  in  the  east,  and,  if  they  did  not  melt  into 
tears  of  some  kind  over  those  letters,  it  was  no  fault 
of  the  mistress-hand  by  which  they  were  written^ 
Every  justice  was  done,  assuredly,  to  the  virtues — 
and  the  failings — of  the  widower's  four  children,  and 
the  terrible  defects  of  their  brirrging-up  before  the 
arrival  of  their  good  angel.  That  is  about  the  usual 
way  with  missionaries,  home  and  foreign.  Trust 
them  to  count  and  classify  the  weeds  in  their  res- 
pective vineyards,  but  who  ever  heard  of  one  find- 
ing so  much  as  a  wild  vine  ? 

But  Bessie's  time  went  by  for  her  in  her  new 
vineyard,  more  rapidly  than  for  others,  and  she  was 
so  thoroughly  ingrossed  with  her  weeds  and  other 
things  tha,t  she  hardly  wondered  at  not  receiving 
an  answer  to  her  letters  to  Fred.  And  yet  he  had 
always  been  a  good  correspondent,  and  she  ought 
really  to  have  wondered  a  little. 

Perhaps  she  may  have  felt,  with  Dr.  Milyng,  that 
she  had  crossed  her  desert,  and  that  it  really  mat- 
tered very  little  what  became  of  the  pony  which 
had  carried  her  over.  He  would  be  pretty  sure  to 
find  pasture,  somewhere. 


2/O  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

And  yet,  to  do  him  justice,  Dr.  Milyng  did  care. 
His  day  of  rest  by  the  summer  remnants  of  the 
far-western  "  river"  was  not  prolonged  for  an  hour 
more  than  was  necessary,  and  his  quadruped  com- 
panion was  called  upon  for  all  the  working  power 
he  had  in  him,  when  they  again  moved  forward. 
But  when,  some  few  days  thereafter,  the  borders  of 
civilization  were  reached,  within  "staging distance" 
of  a  railway  terminus,  the  doctor  made  no  effort  to 
sell  that  pony. 

The  "  dust  and  nugget"  part  of  his  precious  lug- 
gage was  promptly  turned  into  ready  cash  and 
eastern  bills  of  exchange.  Saddle  and  bridle  and 
even  weapons  were  transformed  into  available 
greenbacks,  but  the  doctor  steadfastly  refused  more 
than  one  good  offer  for  the  full  value  of  his  mustang. 
He  had  his  eyes  about  him,  nevertheless,  and  he 
seemed  at  last  to  have  found  the  man  he  wanted 
under  the  tattered  sombrero  of  a  veteran  New  Mexi- 
can herder. 

Tattered  as  was  the  sombrero  of  Senor  Jose  Val- 
lejo,  he  could  have  drawn  his  check  for  an  amount 
which  would  have  startled  many  a  better  dressed 
man,  and  he  and  the  doctor  understood  one  another 
at  sight. 

"You  see,"  said  the  doctor,"!  stole  that  pony 
of  the  Apaches,  'way  beyond  the  Mogollan  Sk 
erras." 

"  Si,  Senor/' 


FROM  DESER  T  TO  WILDERNESS.  2J\ 

"  And  I  worked  him  across  the  alkali  plains  and 
I  risked  my  own  life  to  save  his." 

"  Si,  Seflor." 

"  Now  he's  come  through  with  me,  and  I  can't 
take  money  for  him." 

u  Of  course  not.  I  understand  you.  It  is  the 
feeling  of  a  true  caballero." 

"  Will  you  give  him  the  freedom  of  your  range, 
not  to  be  worked  or  branded  ?" 

"  One  of  my  peones  will  lead  him  to  my  ranche 
to-night,  if  you  say  it." 

"  Will  you  oblige  me  by  accepting  this  repeating 
rifle?  I  assure  you  it  is  a  perfect  weapon,  Senor." 

"You  honor  me,  Sefior.  I  esteem  it  a  great 
privilege  to  accept  your  favor.  The  pony  will  live 
and  die  without  a  saddle-mark.  May  I  ask  your 
kind  attention  to  some  little  matters  for  me  in  St. 
Louis?  A  caballero  of  such  distinguished  senti- 
ments is  a  man  I  can  trust.  I  beg  of  you  to  give 
me  your  considerate  friendship." 

A  very  ragged  miner  was  Dr.  Milyng,  at  that  day 
and  hour,  and  an  equally  remarkable  person  was 
the  man  he  was  conversing  with,  but  the  former 
had  been  a  United  States  Army  Surgeon,  and  was 
now  the  owner  of  endless  mining  claims,  besides 
the  very  good  sum  in  his  pockets,  while  the  latter 
was  lord  of  uncounted  herds  of  cattle,  sheep  and 
horses,  as  well  as  of  "  land  till  you  can't  rest." 

There   was    little    doubt    but   what    the   Apache 


272  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

pony's  latter  days  would  be  better  for  him  than  his 
first,  for  Senor  Jose  Vallejo  would  have  used  up 
his  last  mustang  before  he  would  have  called  for  a 
day's  labor  from  the  beast  he  had  so  received  "  in 
trust." 

And  yet  Dr.  Milyng  discovered  that  the  business 
entrusted  to  his  management  in  consequence  of  the 
pony  matter  carried  with  it  "  commissions"  which 
materially  increased  the  moderate  store  he  had 
digged  and  washed  from  the  placers  "  this  side  the 
mountains." 

From  that  time  forward,  however,  the  doctor's 
movements  were  governed  by  a  very  different  phase 
of  human  progress  from  that  against  which  he  had 
been  struggling  since  he  was  compelled  to  part 
company  with  his  faithful  Oliver.  A  couple  of 
days  of  swift  staging  brought  him  to  one  of  the 
rays  of  the  great  railroad  spider-web  which  has  been 
woven  over  the  Western  Continent,  and  he  had 
nothing  to  do  then,  but  to  slide  along  that  ray  to- 
wards the  central  den  where  the  spiders  themselves 
abide.  There  were  stoppages,  brief  ones,  of  course, 
especially  for  the  care  of  Senor  Vallejo's  interests 
in  St.  Louis,  but  very  little  time  was  really  wasted 
before  he  found  himself  once  more  bewildered  by 
the  rush  and  roar  of  the  great  city  by  the  sea. 

He  had  been  there  before.  He  had  visited  many 
another  great  city,  in  his  time,  but  never  had  he  so 
deeply  felt  the  unfathomable  difference  between 


FROM  DESERT  TO  WILDERNESS.  273 

that  awful  hive  of  human  life  and  the  solitudes 
among  which  he  had  been  seeking  the  ''Golden 
Heart."  He  could  hardly  make  it  real. 

The  streets  were  ravines  which  ought  to  lead  to 
either  heights  or  depths,  and  they  only  opened  into 
other  ravines  as  helplessly  regular  and  aimless.  The 
crowds  were  an  intolerable  burden,  for  among  them 
all  he  sa^v  no  man  whom  he  cared  to  either  seek  or 
ayoid. 

He  had  had  something  like  a  similar  experience, 
in  days  gone  by,  but  it  all  seemed  new  to  him  now, 
and  he  found  himself  possessed  with  a  strong  de- 
sire to  flee  from  it  and  be  at  rest  again  among  his 
peaceful  mountain  ranges. 

He  had  had  in  mind,  as  he  whirled  along  over 
the  railways  which  brought  him,  the  names  of  more 
than  one  man  to  whom  he  meant  to  open  the  sub- 
ject of  his  mining  discoveries,  and  that  of  Mr. 
Daniel  Bro\vn  had  been  among  them,  but,  on  the 
very  morning  after  his  arrival,  he  found  his  first 
choice  made  for  him. 

He  had  selected  his  hotel,  hit  or  miss,  and  had 
made  himself  remarkably  at  home,  as  the  hotel 
clerk  thought,  over-night,  but  he  had  risen,  bright 
and  early,  with  the  idea  that  what  he  needed  most 
was  an  "  outfit." 

A  clothing  store,  a  bootmaker's,  hatter's,  and 
various  other  establishments,  were  visited,  with  such 
a  result  that  Oliver  himself  would  not  have  known 


2/4 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


his  master,  not  to  speak  of  matters  which  were 
ordered  to  be  sent  to  his  hotel.  If  he  had  been 
preparing  for  a  season  of  fashionable  operations 
among  the  summer  watering-places,  now  so  soon  to 
close,  he  could  hardly  have  been  more  liberal.  But 
the  doctor's  notions  of  Avhat  belonged  to  the  armor 
of  a  mining  warrior  about  to  assail  the  strongholds 
of  eastern  capital  included  something  more  than 
mere  clothing.  He  must  have  \veapons  as  well  as 
uniform,  and  he  entered  a  jewelry  store.  He  knew 
what  he  wanted.  K  seal  ring,  some  diamond  studs, 
sleeve-buttons,  a  watch  and  chain,  and  something 
curious  to  hang  on  the  chain. 

That  was  all,  but  when  he  came  to  pay  for  them 
the  loose  paper  in  his  wallet,  already  drawn  upon 
for  many  items  of  expenditure,  was  hardly  sufficient. 

A  trifle,  to  a  man  who  could  offer  western  bills 
of  exchange  to  so  comfortable  an  amount. 

"Are  you  Dr.  Charles  Milyng?" 

"Of  course  I  am.  Just  give  me  a  pen  and  I'll 
endorse  that  draft.  You  can  give  me  your  check 
for  the  difference.  It's  all  right." 

"  Haven't  a  doubt  of  it,  my  dear  sir,  but  you  can 
easily  identify  yourself?" 

"I  identify  myself?  Do  you  mean  to  dispute 
my  word?" 

"  Certainly  not.  It's  a  mere  matter  of  business. 
We  can't  deviate  from  our  rule,  you  know.  Some- 
body that  knows  you  must  identify  you." 


FROM  DESERT  TO  WILDERNESS.  275 

The  doctor's  black  eyes  flashed,  and  he  felt  for 
his  revolver. 

It  was  not  there,  and  it  was  just  as  well  for  the 
jewelry  salesman  that  it  was  not. 

Then  he  looked  at  the  watch  and  chain  which 
he  had  already  put  on,  and  he  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  City  ways,"  he  muttered,  and  then  he  added, 
aloud,  "  Do  yo*u  know  Mr.  Daniel  Brown?" 

11  The  Mr.  Brown?  Merchant,  and  all  that?"  re- 
plied the  clerk,  running  over  several  items  of  the 
business  connections  by  which  the  world  knew  of 
such  a  man. 

"That's  him.     He  knows  me." 

"  He'll  do.  One  of  our  men  will  go  with  you  to 
his  office.  He'll  cash  your  bill  for  you  at  sight,  if 
he  knows  you." 

"Knows  me?  Well,  I  guess  he  does.  Send  on 
your  man.  Tell  him  to  come  right  along  with  me." 

"  Queer  customer,"  remarked  the  man  of  gold 
and  watches,  as  the  doctor  sailed  out  of  sight,  "  but 
I  guess  he's  the  right  sort.  I'd  like  to  sell  a  few 
more  watches  and  things  to-day  at  those  figures. 
Old  Brown's  check'll  do  for  me." 

And  so  it  did,  but  Dr.  Milyng  himself  was  hardly 
prepared  for  the  exceedingly  hearty  welcome  he 
received  from  his  old  acquaintance,  the  city  mer- 
chant. His  bill  was  cashed,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
but  he  himself  was  forbidden  to  leave  the  office  un- 


?^6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

til  he  did  so  in  Mr.  Brown's  own  carnage,  and  be- 
fore the  evening  was  over,  burned  out  like  a  candle 
to  the  very  socket,  the  doctor  had  discovered  that 
he  was  under  no  necessity  of  hunting  around  among 
eastern  capitalists.  The  man  whose  soul  was  all 
gunpowder  for  the  kind  of  sparks  he  had  brought 
with  him  was  already  on  fire.  The  tray  of  speci- 
mens had  been  brought  out,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
but  they,  the  specimens,  were  mere  mud  compared 
to  the  evidences  of  mineral  wealth  which  Dr.  Milyng 
laid  beside  them. 

j  <k  We  can  have  any  assay  you  please  to  ask  for, 
Mr.  Brown — " 

"  Don't  need  any,  my  dear  old  friend.  You  say 
it's  the  best  mine  you  ever  found  ?" 

"  Found,  sir?  I  didn't  find  it.  There's  no  such 
thing  about  it.  It's  the  centre  of  a  system.  I 
reasoned  it  out,  years  ago,  and  I've  been  working 
down  to  it,  ever  since.  The  gold  region  is  no  hap- 
hazard work  of  luck  and  chance.  It's  governed  by 
laws,  and  I've  discovered  the  operation  of  those 
laws,  that's  all.  Every  system  has  a  heart.  Our  mine 
is  the  heart,  not  a  mere  vein.  Veins  play  out ;  use  up ; 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  What  we  are  to  work  on  is  the 
golden  heart  of  the  continent.  The  golden  heart  of 
the  world.  All  we  want  is  the  money  to  work  it." 

"  I've  got  that,"  said  Mr.  Brown. 

"  Then  we'll  form  our  company,  and  I  won't  look 
any  further." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SOMETHING    LIKE    A    MODERN    CASE    OF    META- 
MORPHOSIS. 

MR.  BROWN  had  been  wise  in  sending  the 
ladies  of  his  household  into  the  mountains 
for  the  remainder  of  the  hot  weather.  Thereby  he 
placed  Carrie  Dillaye  beyond  the  reach  of  annoy- 
ance from  other  members  of  her  family,  pending  the 
proceedings  for  a  settlement,  now  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Allyn.  Thereby  he  relieved  Mabel  Varick  from 
a  responsibility  which  threatened  to  be  a  trifle  too 
heavy  for  a  young  lady  of  her  few  years  and  small 
experience.  Thereby,  too,  although  he  hardly  con- 
fessed as  much  to  'himself,  he  prevented  the  sojourn 
of  Mrs.  Boyce  at  his  house  from  putting  on  too 
permanent  an  aspect.  As  it  now  appeared,  she  had 
but  accompanied  his  two  nieces  for  a  vacation  in 
the  country,  and  he  was  in  less  of  a  hurry  to  join 
them  than  the  widow  herself  expected  or  could,  per- 
haps, have  desired. 

The   locality  selected  for  them  was   sufficiently 
fashionable,  and  they  were  under  .no  bonds  to  re- 

27; 


278  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

main  there  a  day  longer  than  pleased  them,  and  the 
two  girls  themselves  were  speedily  ready  to  declare 
to  one  another  that  they  would  not  have  been  with- 
out Mrs.  Boyce  for  the  world.  She  did  not  in  any 
perceptible  degree  curtail  their  freedom,  and  yet 
her  matronly  presence  did  supply  such  a  tremendous 
element  of  propriety  and  protection. 

He  would  have  been  a  singularly  bold  social  free- 
booter who  would  have  ventured  on  any,  the  slight- 
est, act  of  piracy,  under  the  guns  of  such  a  woman- 
of-war  as  Mrs.  Boyce. 

She  deemed  it  proper,  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
to  come  out,  in  company  with  her  young  friends, 
resplendent  with  such  jewels  as  made  them  proud 
of  her,  and  effectually  prevented  any  notion,  on  the 
part  of  anybody,  that  she  was  other  than  a  t:  great 
lady."  Even  those  who  failed  to  bow  to  her 
matchless  manners  were  ready  to  prostrate  them- 
selves before  her  diamonds. 

It  was  a  regular  campaign  for  the  widow,  and  she 
would  have  won  every  battle  of  it,  but  for  one  thing. 

Mabel  and  Carrie  called  it  a  peace,  or  at  least  a 
truce,  in  the  absence  of  Uncle  Daniel,  and  there  was 
really  nothing  to  be  won  from  them  during  so  com- 
plete a  cessation  of  hostilities. 

Mrs.  Boyce  began  to  understand  it,  after  a  while, 
and  she  longed  for,  although  she  was  too  wise  to 
hasten,  a  return  to  some  sort  of  debatable  ground. 
It  was  altogether  too  much  like  a  defeat  to  have  her 


A  LITTLE  UNEXPECTED.  279 

position  as  "elderly  friend  of  the  family"  so  frankly 
and  unreservedly  conceded  to  her. 

"  Could  it  be,"  she  thought,  "  that  Mabel  Varick 
was  anything  more  than  a  mere  girl,  after  all? 
There  is  no  doubt  about  Carrie.  She  is  even  too 
ready  to  get  up  flirtations.  Mabel  has  not  flirted 
with  a  soul  since  we  left  the  city." 

That  was  a  bad  sign,  as  every  matron  knows.  It 
always  means  something,  and  it  is  not  always  easy  to 
discover  what  it  means. 

There  was  nothing  for  it,  however,  but  to  see 
it  through,  and  Mrs.  Boyce  herself  had  but  a  faint 
idea  of  how  little  would  have  been  gained  by  a 
transfer  of  operations  to  the  city. 

Mr.  Brown's  business  affairs,  of  themselves,  would 
have  been  enemy  enough  to  meet,  just  then,  with 
his  fifty-odd  years  to  back  them,  not  to  speak  of 
Mabel  Varick  and  other  considerations,  but  now— 
the  arrival  of  Dr.  Milyng! 

The  doctor  himself  had  no  idea  how  often  his 
face  had  returned  to  the  merchant's  memory  and  his 
name  to  his  lips,  during  the  dreamy  evenings  spent 
over  those  fragments  of  ore  at  the  library  table. 
Still  less  did  he  imagine  the  effect  actually  pro- 
duced by  the  exhibition  of  his  few  but  weighty  evi- 
dences of  the  wealth  of  his  new  discovery. 

Talk  of  boys. 

If  you  care  to  know  what  enthusiasm  is,  wait  till 
you  see  a  man  of  mature  middle-age  throw  him. 


2gO  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

self  away  on  a  hobby.  Henry  Berg,  Cyrus  Field, 
Dr.  Livingstone,  all  the  rest  of  them,  how  they  do 
shame  the  cold-blooded,  cautious,  calculating  shiver- 
ers  of  twenty-one.  Now  and  then  some  sophomore 
gets  up  gas  enough  to  blow  out  his  cork,  but  then  it 
is  only  a  cork,  after  all,  as  a  general  thing,  and  the 
world  never  joins  in  a  grand  rush  to  pick  it  up. 
They  know  there  could  not  have  been  anything 
wonderful  in  that  kind  of  a  bottle,  no  matter  how 
large  a  kind  of  beer  the  bottle  may  think  of  itself. 

It  is  a  grand  thing  to  capture  a  genuine  hobby 
and  break  it  in  for  your  own  riding.  If  it  does  not 
throw  you  and  break  your  blessed  neck — you 
must  take  your  own  risk  of  that  when  you  mount 
it — it  will  be  sure  to  carry  you  somewhere,  where 
neither  you  nor  anybody  else  ever  went  before. 

Mr.  Brown's  hobby  was  yet  a  trifle  indefinite  as 
to  form  and  features,  and  was  likely  to  develop  a 
good  many  of  both,  in  time,  but  he  felt  the  bound- 
ing motion  of  it  under  him,  from  the  moment  when 
Dr.  Milyng  entered  his  office.  The  doctor  was  com- 
pelled to  transfer  his  baggage  and  headquarters 
from  his  hotel  to  the  merchant's  residence,  that  first 
night,  bringing  with  him  the  ores  which  had  been 
such  a  weariness  to  the  pony  during  that  thirsty 
third  day  on  the  alkali  plains. 

The  next  morning  the  two  rode  down  town  to- 
gether, and  Mr.  Brown  never  stopped  talking  about 
mining  affairs  until  he  reached  his  office.  That 


A  LITTLE  UNEXPECTED.  28 1 

was  the  reason  he  never  till  then  asked  himself  the 
question  what  he  should  do  with  Dr.  Milyng*  for 
the  remainder  of  the  day. 

It  was  a  question  which  had  to  be  asked  and  an- 
swered, nevertheless,  and  the  doctor  could  give  but 
a  very  partial  and  insufficient  solution  of  the  con- 
undrum. 

Ores  could  be  taken  to  an  assayer.  That  would 
be  something,  and  would  consume  a  little  time. 

There  could  be  a  consultation  with  Mr.  Allyn  as 
to  legal  formula  relating  to  a  mining  company,  of 
which  the  members  and  corporators  were  yet  to  be 
selected.  Then  there  could  be  a  hunt  for  a  map- 
maker,  by  whom  a  more  or  less  accurate  profile  of 
the  region  around  the  Golden  Heart  should  be  put 
on  paper.  All  that  was  very  well,  and  the  mer- 
chant and  the  miner  stopped  there,  as  if  exhausted 
in  laying  out  such  a  programme  for  one  day's 
operations. 

But  all  that  was  mere  antelope-shooting  to  a  man 
like  Dr.  Milyng.  He  could  have  seen  twenty  law- 
yers, fifty  assayers,  a  hundred  map-makers,  killed 
them  all,  and  then  complained  that  the  hunting 
was  poor.  When  and  where  he  got  his  lunch,  he 
.could  hardly  have  reported  correctly,  but  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon  he  found  himself  explor- 
ing some  of  the  wild  and  unknown  regions  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city.  He  knew  there  was  salt 
water  in  that  direction,  somewhere,  and  that  some 


2g2  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

of  those  red-brick  ravines  and  passes  led  down, 
through  the  ranges  of  warehouses  and  lager-beer 
shops,  to  wharves,  and  shipping,  and  he  had  pene- 
trated within  a  hopeful  distance  of  a  discovery  when 
he  became  aware  of  a  change  in  the*  weather.  JNo 
such  thing  could»have  taken  him  by  surprise  on  the 
plains  or  among  the  mountains,  where  storms  givq 
fair  warningl  but  now  he  had  barely  time  to  spring 
past  a  wooden  Indian,  of  no  tribe  with  which  he 
was  familiar,  before  the  rain  came  down.  It  was 
no  hardship  for  a  man  who  smoked,  to  be  driven 
into  a  tobacco  shop,  but  if  it  had  been  he  could 
have  consoled  himself  by  gazing  out  at  the  familiar 
violence  of  that  "  cloud-burst." 

There  was  nothing  for  it,  having  respect  to  his 
civilized  clothes,  but  to  wait,  and  he  waited. 

And  it  happened  that,  at  the  end  of  that  very 
street,  there  was  a  boat-landing.  A  pier  not  alto- 
gether given  up  to  big  vessels.  There  was  hardly 
another  like  it  on  the  whole  water-front  of  the  city, 
which  is  like  life,  with  few  places  where  small  craft 
can  land  their  cargoes  with  comfort  and  security. 

Just  before  the  deluge  ceased,  there  came  a  yawl- 
boat,  rowed  by  one  man,  leisurely  pulling  towards 
that  boat-landing,  and  the  only  wonder  was  that 
the  oarsman  should  be  in  no  greater  hurry  to  get 
ashore. 

"  Had  a  tough  pull,  I  reckon,"  said  a  policeman 
under  an  awning  as  he  saw  the  boat  pulled  in. 


A  LITTLE  UNEXPECTED. 


283 


"  Hullo,  mister,"  shouted  a  small  boy,  "  forgot 
yer  umberelly,  did  yer?" 

But  the  drenched  boatman  made  no  sign  or  sound 
as  he  fastened  his  boat,  nodded  to  the  pier-keeper, 
and  he  hurried  away  up  the  street. 

He  moved  very  much  like  a  man  who  was  wet 
and  wanted  a  change  of  clothes,  and  everybody 
looked  at  him  as  if  they  thought  he  was  just  that 
kind  of  a  man. 

Certainly  no  one  thought  of  inquiring  how  he  hap- 
pened to  have  come  ashore  in  that  particular  yawl. 

The  rain  was  holding  up,  now,  and  the  sun  was 
coming  out  again  as  the  boatman  strode  rapidly 
forward.  It  was  a  hot  sun,  too,  such  as  comes  after 
thunderstorms,  and  well  adapted  to  make  men  and 
things  dry  again. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

A  wet  man  has  no  business  to  run  against  a  dry 
one,  especially  one  so  glossily  dry,  so  shiningly  un- 
moist  as  the  gentleman  addressed,  but  he  showed 
no  sign  of  bad  temper. 

"Got  soaked,  did  ye?  Hallo.  Look  here,  is  it 
you  ?  Fred  Heron  !  How  d'ye  do,  old  boy?  If  I 
ain't  glad,  now.  Give  us  your  hand." 

"  Dr.  Milyng— " 

"  That's  me.  I'd  have  given  anything  to  meet 
you.  You're  just  the  man  I  want.  Where'd  you 
come  from?  Never  mind  your  wetting.  That's 
nothing." 


284  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Fred  Heron  had  taken  the  doctor's  outstretched 
hand,  almost  mechanically,  and  he  had  let  him  shake 
it  half-loose,  but  he  withdrew  it,  now,  remarking : 

"You're  the  first  man  I've  met,  Dr.  Milyng — " 

"Ami?  Are  all  the  rest  dead?  I  ain't,  then. 
What  are  you  up  to?  Tm  just  glad  to  have  met 
you/' 

Fred's  face  had  been  changing  color  rapidly  for 
those  few  moments,  but  there  was  a  firm  expression 
gathering  about  his  lips. 

"Dr.  Milyng,"  he  said,  now  half-huskily,  "you're 
an  old  friend,  and  I  must  tell  you  just  how  it  is  with 
me.  I've  just  escaped  from  the  Island." 

"The  Island?  What's  that?  It's  a  kind  of  jail, 
isn't  it?" 

"  It's  all  kinds  of  a  jail." 

"  And  you  got  yourself  corralled  by  the  lawyers, 
did  you  ?  How  did  they  get  in  on  ye?  What  was 
the  matter  with  your  lookout  ?" 

There  was  not  the  slightest  cooling  in  the  cordi- 
ality of  the  doctor's  manner.  On  the  contrary,  his 
interest  seemed  to  be  growing,  as  if  his  young  friend 
had  come  out  of  a  sharp  brush  with  some-  tribe  of 
Eastern  Apaches,  and  was  about  to  tell  the  story  of 
it.  And  so  he  was,  for  Fred  could  but  see  and  feel 
that  anything  but  the  utmost  frankness  was  out  of 
the  question.  His  wet  clothes  were  of  less  conse- 
quence in  the  warm  sunshine  now  pouring  down 
upon  him,  and  his  story  was  not  a  long  one,  for  he 


A  LITTLE  UNEXPECTED.  285 

confined  it  mainly  to  the  manner  of  his  getting  in, 
at  the  Island,  and  his  remarkable  exploit  of  that 
very  afternoon.  He  told  it  all  well,  but  his  modest 
way  of  presenting  the  facts  did  but  bring  them  out 
more  clearly,  and  the  doctor  came  very  near  throw- 
ing his  arms  around  the  very  damp  narrator. 

If  Fred  Heron  had  had  a  friendly  hold  upon  the 
heart  of  the  mining  veteran  before  he  told  that 
story,  he  had  fastened  him  now  as  with  hooks  of 
steel.  The  English  language  itself  ran  short  of 
words  to  express  the  doctor's  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion, and  loose  fragments  of  half  a  dozen  others 
were  called  in  to  make  up  the  deficiency.  He 
wound  up  with  : 

"  You  shall  go  right  along  with  me,  my  boy.  You 
shall  be  the  secretary  of  our  mining  company.  We 
will  go  right  straight  to  old  Brown's  office  and  I'll 
tell  him  I've  engaged  you." 

"  What,  in  this  rig  ?" 

"That  rig?  No,  indeed.  He's  a  very  particular 
man,  and — well,  if  I  ain't  an  old  fool.  Come  on, 
Fred,  we'll  get  you  an  outfit  first  thing." 

"  But  I've  no  money,  doctor,  and  I  can't  borrow, 
even  of  you." 

"  Can't  you,  indeed?  Well,  then,  I'll  divide  my 
pile  with  you,  and  I'll  break  your  neck  if  you  make 
any  dispute  about  it.  Don't  be  too  proud,  now. 
It's  only  an  advance  on  your  salary  as  secretary  of 
the  company." 


286  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"But  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  company. 
What  is  it?" 

"You'll  know,  soon  enough.     Come  along,  now." 

The  ideas  entertained  by  men  of  Dr.  Milyng's 
stamp  about  money  matters  are  apt  to  be  a  little 
vague.  No  others  set  so  small  a  value  on  the  treas- 
ures they  hunt  for,  once  they  have  found  and  pock- 
eted them.  All  their  greed  of  gold  seems  to  cool 
off  as  soon  as  the  metal  takes  the  form  of  coin,  and 
is  at  zero  when  it  is  expressed  by  mere  paper. 

Fred  went  with  the  doctor,  but  was  compelled  to 
interfere  continually  as  a  moderator  of  the  profuse 
liberality  of  the  latter's  notions  of  what  became  the 
secretary  of  the  Golden  Heart  to  wear  and  shine 
with.  As  it  was,  he  feared  that  at  least  three 
months'  pay  must  have  disappeared  before  their 
shopping  was  completed.  All  their  packages  had 
been  ordered  to  a  hotel,  selected  by  Fred,  and  when, 
after  an  hour  spent  in  his  room,  the  escaped  con- 
vict reappeared  arm  in  arm  with  the  now  radiant 
miner,  all  the  keepers  on  the  Island  would  have 
walked  by  without  knowing  him. 

There  was  one  thing  more,  which  tended  to  make 
the  young  man  walk  firmly  and  look  all  men  in  the 
face. 

While  his  outward  seeming  had  undergone  so 
great  a  change,  a  wonderfully  fresh  and  joyous  feel- 
ing crept  over  him,  through  nerve  and  vein.  A  feel- 
ing of  freedom.  Not  of  mere  freedom  from  stone 


A  LITTLE  UNEXPECTED.  287 

walls  and  water-guarded  Island  limits,  but  from 
the  torturing  grasp  of  that  old  enemy  within. 

He  had  broken  the  last  fetter  of  his  bondage 
when  he  sprang  from  the  sea-wall  into  the  foaming 
tide. 

Dr.  Milyng  knew  nothing  of  all  that,  however, 
and  he  urged  his  companion  to  a  tremendously 
rapid  rate  of  walking  as  they  left  the  hotel. 

"It's  four  o'clock/'  he  said,  "and  old  Brown  '11 
be  bound  home  before  a  great  while.  We  must 
not  run  the  risk  of  keeping  him  waiting." 

Risk,  indeed! 

Mr.  Brown  had  been  waiting  and  fretting  and 
fuming  for  an  hour,  and  imagining  that  his  friend 
had  lost  himself  somewhere.  The  carriage  was 
waiting,  too,  to  take  them  home  to  dinner,  and  the 
merchant's  face  clouded  a  little,  when  he  saw  that 
his  wanderer  had  not  returned  alone. 

"I've  found  him,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as  he 
marched  in.  "My  old  friend,  Mr.  Fred  Heron.  Knew 
his  father,  and  his  mother,  and  his  whole  family. 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  him.  He's  to  be  the  secretary 
of  our  mining  company." 

Somewhat  to  the  doctor's  astonishment,  the  mer- 
chant was  on  his  feet  before  the  queer  introduction 
was  over. 

"Mr.  Heron.  Glad  to  see  you,  sir.  Been  won* 
dering  for  a  month  and  more,  why  you  did  not  keep 
your  promise  to  call  on  me.  How  do  you  do,  sir?" 


288  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

11  Very  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Brown.  It  has  been 
impossible  for  me  to  call.  I've  not  been  in  the 
city." 

"  Tramping,  eh?  Well,  it  has  done  you  good,  I 
should  say.  You  must  tell  me  about  it  when  we 
get  to  the  house.  You  will  dine  with  us?" 

"With  pleasure,  Mr.  Brown.  I  am  anxious  to 
know  more  about  the  company." 

"You  know  each  other,  then,"  slowly  remarked 
the  doctor.  "  I  didn't  suppose  anybody  knew  any- 
body else,  here-away.  Why,  Fred's  face  is  the  only 
one  I've  met  all-day,  that  I  could  fit  a  handle  to." 

"  Big  crowds,  eh,  doctor?  Well,  the  carriage  is 
waiting.  We'll  drive  right  to  the  house." 

Fred  walked  out  of  the  office  with  them,  like  a 
man  in  a  dream.  He  had  waked  that  morning,  a  pris- 
oner, on  a  pallet  in  a  hospital  on  the  Island.  He 
had  fought  for  his  life  with  the  angry  waves  and  the 
storm.  He  had  landed  from  a  stolen  boat,  with  a 
feeling  that  the  world  did  not  contain  a  more  hope- 
less, helpless,  half-drowned  castaway.  And  here  he 
was,  now,  better  dressed  than  he  had  been  before 
for  years,  and  whisking  through  the  streets  of  the 
great  city  in  a  stylish  turnout,  the  guest  of  a  great 
merchant,  a  strong  friend  by  his  side,  and  the  open- 
ing dawn  of  a  new  career  before  him.  Let  some- 
body moralize. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  HARD  FATE  OF  AN  ENTERPRISING  PUBLIC   SER. 
VANT. 

DURING  all  those  lengthening  days  following 
their  fruitless  visit  to  the  Brown  mansion,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dillaye  found  the  world  growing  dark  to 
them. 

Not  that  they  were  visibly  annoyed  by  those 
whom  Mr.  Dillaye  termed  "  the  hired  minions  of 
Brown's  infernal  malice." 

In  fact  they  knew  only  too  little  of  the  steps 
which  were  steadily  taken  by  that  astute  and  cautious 
gentleman,  Mr.  Counsellor  Allyn.  All  they  knew  was 
that  he  was  moving,  and  that  nothing  they  could  now 
do  could  hinder  him.  The  condition  of  Mr.  Dillaye's 
own  business  affairs  rendered  him  quite  willing  that 
such  should  be  the  case,  since  that  which  was  un- 
known to  him  must  also  be  a  secret  to  the  financial 
gentlemen  who  discounted  his  notes. 

All  the  more  vexatious  was  it,  one  morning,  to 
find  in  a  journal  somewhat  given  to  the  mysterious 
and  sensational  in  the  manufacture  of  what  it  called 

289 


290 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


its  "news,"  an  item  under  the  head  of  "mysterious 
disappearance,"  setting  forth  that  the  daughter  of 
one  of  the  city's  first  families,  the  heiress  of  large 
wealth,  a  young  lady  of  singular  beauty  and  accom- 
plishments, and  an  ornament  to  the  society  in  which 
she  moved,  had  been  for  some  weeks  among  the 
missing.  Her  relatives  had  offered  fabulous  re- 
wards, so  it  was  stated,  and  the  entire  detective 
force  had  been  employed,  but  without  avail,  and 
the  darkest  suspicions  were  entertained  of  foul  play. 

"Can  they  mean  Carrie?"  he  mournfully  ex- 
claimed, as  he  passed  the  sheet  across  the  break- 
fast table  to  his  wife. 

She  read  the  item  carefully  through. 

"  Don't  care  if  they  do.  What  can  they  make  of 
it?  We  can  give  a  perfect  answer  to  all  inquiries." 

"  But  they  have  not  inquired.  They  have  printed 
it  at  once.  What  they  want  is  something  to  fill  up 
with." 

"Wish  it  would  poison  them,  then/' 

But  poison  does  not  work  on  constitutions  daily 
accustomed  to  it,  and  the  reporter,  who  had  over- 
heard an  incautious  conversation  between  two  of 
Mr.  Allyn's  clerks  in  a  restaurant,  was  not  disposed 
to  let  the  matter  rest  there.  Not  even  the  con- 
temptuous snubbing  he  received  at  the  lawyer's 
office,  in  spite  of  his  credentials  from  the  influential 
journal  he  represented,  served  to  cool  his  profes- 
sional ardor.  He  had  struck  a  trail,  and  he  would 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  JOURNALISM.  2gi 

follow  it,  like  a  red  Indian  or  any  other  blood- 
hound, for  he  had  even  caught  the  names  of  indi- 
viduals with  those  long,  keen  ears  of  his. 

Failing  to  find  Mr.  Dillaye  when  he  called,,  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  at  that  gentleman's  place  of  busi- 
ness, he  proceeded  at  once  to  his  residence. 

"My  daughter,  sir?  Mr.  Dillaye's  daughter? 
What  have  you  to  do  with  her?"  was  the  curt 
and  severe  response  of  the  lady  who  entered  the 
parlor  in  response  to  his  card,  and  who  listened  so 
grimly  to  his  smirking  statement  of  his  errand. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Madame.  A  very  painful  case,  no 
doubt.  Sorry  to  intrude  on  family  matters,  but 
the  public  interest  is  greatly  excited,  and  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  press  to  meet  the  popular  demand. 
We  must  really  ascertain  the  particulars,  or  some  of 
our  unscrupulous  rivals  may  print  a  false  and  garbled 
account  of  it." 

"  Let  'em,  then.  Miss  Dillaye  is  visiting  with  her 
uncle,  Mr.  Daniel  Brown.  You'd  better  see  him,  I 
think.  Good-morning,  sir.  John,  show  the  gentle- 
man the  door,  and  keep  an  eye  on  the  hat-rack.  See 
that  no  more  of  his  kind  get  in," 

Unbroken  was  the  metallic  smile  on  the  reporter's 
face  as  he  bowed  himself  out  of  the  parlor,  for  he 
was  used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  and  had  little  doubt 
but  what  he  should  come  again,  with  a  certainty  of 
a  better  reception  "when  the  secret  leaked  out." 

And  he  knew,  too,  that  a  hundred  other  warriors 


2Q2  THE  HEART  OF  IT, 

of  his  tribe  were  even  then  scouting"  in  all  directions 
for  some  traces  of  the  very  trail  he  was  following. 

At  the  Brown  mansion  he  made  even  a  more 
complete  failure,  for  he  failed  to  pass  the  threshold, 
and  Prince  himself  stood  calmly  by  while  the  house- 
keeper repeated  her  assurances  that  "  the  ladies  is  in 
the  country,  sir." 

Further  questioning  was  made  difficult  by  the 
thickness  and  strength  of  the  door  which  was  closed 
in  his  face,  and  any  prolonged  survey  of  the  premises 
was  vetoed  by  Prince.  The  reporter  discerned  that 
there  had  been  some  carelessness  in  fastening  the 
wire  muzzle,  that  morning,  and  he  had  doubts  of 
Prince's  appreciation  of  the  privileges  of  a  free  and 
untamed  press. 

"Old  Brown  himself.  I'll  make  him  disgorge. 
See  ff  I  don't." 

And  his  next  descent  was  upon  Mr.  Daniel  Brown. 

"  Disappearance ?  My  niece?  Miss  Dillaye?  O 
yes.  She  is  my  niece,  and  she  has  disappeared. 
Gone  very  mysteriously  to  the  Bald  Mountain 
House,  in  company  with  my  other  niece,  Miss  Varick, 
and  her  friend,  Mrs.  Boyce.  Remarkable,  is  it 
not  ?  Glad  to  give  you  any  information,  sir." 

"  But,  Mr.  Brown—" 

"  Excuse  me,  my  young  friend,  that's  all.  I've  no 
time  to  bother  with  your  blunders.  Good-morning." 

Another  very  open  door  through  which  he  some- 
what sadly  made  his  exit,  but  he  felt  more  sure  than 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  JOURNALISM.  293 

ever  that  he  had  a  good  thing  on  his  hands  if  he 
could  only  get  at  the  bottom  of  it.  So  strong  and 
so  unerring  is  brute  instinct,  especially  when  its 
brutality  is  well  trained  and  well  rewarded. 

There  was  no  throwing  him  off  in  that  way,  and 
the  Bald  Mountain  House  was  not  so  far  from  the 
city  that  the  afternoon  train  could  not  carry  there  a 
man  who  represented  so  many  puffs  of  so  very  many 
summer  hotels.  A  few  hours  by  rail  and  boat,  and 

he  was  there. 

t 

"  Lo,  'twas  a  gala  night,"  and  the  ladies  were 
dressing  for  the  dance  which  was  to  come  as  soon 
as  the  dining-hall  could  be  transformed  into  a  ball- 
room. All  the  parlors  were  filling  up,  already,  but 
the  reporter  had  help  from  the  landlord  and  the 
clerk,  and  Mrs.  Boyce's  party  were  duly  advised  that 
a  gentleman  from  the  city  was  waiting  to  have  a 
word  with  them. 

"  Will  you  see  him,  Mrs.  Boyce  ?"  asked  Mabel. 
"  I  do  not  know  the  name  on  his  card." 

"  He  sends  word  especially  to  Miss  Dillaye.  Do 
you  know  him,  Carrie  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  but  I  will  not  see  him  alone.  If  it 
were  any  law  business  we  should  have  heard  from 
Uncle  Daniel  or  Mr.  Allyn." 

"  If  you  wish  it,  dear,  I  will  see  what  he  wants," 
said  Mrs.  Boyce,  for  she  had  completed  her  toilette, 
and  in  a  minute  or  so  more  the  gentleman  of  the  press 
felt  a  throb  of  triumph  at  his  heart  as  the  stately 


294 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


lady  sailed  into  the  reception-room  where  he  waited 
and  hoped. 

"  Miss  Dillaye?  I  am  grateful  indeed,  and  sorry 
to  trouble  you  about  so  unpleasant  an  affair,  but  I 
represent  the  most  widely  read  and  influential 
journal  in  the  country,  and  we  are  desirous  of  lay- 
ing before  the  public  the  particulars  of  your  late 
mysterious  disappearance.  I  wish  particularly  to 
know  all  that  happened,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances you  returned.  I  assure  you  it  is  not  generally 
known  that  such  is  the  fact." 

Mrs.  Boyce  listened,  with  an  expression  of  the 
deepest  interest. 

"  Certainly.   But  may  I  ask  when  I  disappeared  ?" 

"  That's  precisely  the  first  thing  I  wish  to  know. 
The  public  is  deeply  interested." 

"  Very  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  I  really  do 
not  know.  This  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  it.  If 
you  would  only  tell  me,  now." 

"  Why,  Miss  Dillaye,  you  certainly  will  not  be  so 
cruel)  so  unwise.  The  most  dreadfully  incorrect  re- 
ports might  get  in  circulation — " 

"  Permit  me  to  correct  you,  sir.  My  name  is 
Mrs.  Boyce,  and  you  will  please  address  me  as  such. 
I  beg  leave  to  decline  any  further  conversation  upon 
the  subject  of  your  errand.  It  is  a  strictly  private 
affair.  Good-evening,  sir." 

A  flood  of  light  broke  in  upon  the  soul  of  the  re- 
porter as  the  elegantly-dressed  lady  swept  from  the 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  JOURNALISM.  295 

room.  He  saw  through  it  all,  now.  Not  even  the 
shallow  subterfuge  played  by  the  landlord  and  his 
cunning  subordinate  were  proof  against  such  saga- 
city as  his.  He  would  not  let  them  know  he  had 
seen  through  it.  Not  he. 

,  "  O  if  I  could  only  get  a  glimpse  of  Boyce  him- 
self!" 

And  so  he  lingered  at  the  door  of  the  dining 
ball-room,  until,  the  centre  of  a  brilliant  group  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  widow  passed  him.  He 
entered,  he  watched,  he  made  his  unerring  selec- 
tion. 

Mabel  Varick  and  Carrie  Dillaye  had  begged 
Mrs.  Boyce  to  relieve  them  as  much  as  possible  of 
that  particular  young  man,  but  they  had  never 
guessed  what  would  come  of  it  by  reason  of  his 
being  so  skilfully  detained  at  the  widow's  side. 

Another  day,  and  the  great  journal  announced 
the  solution  of  its  social  enigma. 

The  supposed  disappearance  had  been  an  elope- 
ment, no  more,  no  less,  and  the  lady,  "  who,  though 
very  beautiful,  is  quite  old  enough  to  take  care  of 
herself,  has  evidently  married  for  love.  Nothing 
else  would  compel  any  woman  to  tie  herself  to  such 
a  red-haired  noodle  of  a  boy  as  Mr.  Boyce,  whoever 
he  may  be.  It  is  rumored,  by  the  way,  that  he 
is  enormously  wealthy,  but,  of  course,  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  Her  family  and  friends  are 
evidently  a  good  deal  discomfited  by  the  match 


296  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

and  the  manner  of  it.  The  happy  couple  are 
spending  their  honeymoon  at  the  Bald  Mountain 
House,  the  accomplished  proprietor  of  which  popu- 
lar resort  is  doing  his  utmost  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  them.'* 

There  was  half  a  column  of  it,  and  there  was  no 
question  but  what  it  was  news,  pure  and  simple, 
and  the  reporter  had  won  a  glorious  triumph,  as 
usual,  over  the  obstacles  thrown  in  his  way  by  the 
absurd  scruples  of  private  delicacy. 

When,  however,  that  article  was  perused  by  Mr. 
Daniel  Brown,  he  picked  up  his  pen  with  a  very  red 
face. 

The  first  thing  he  wrote  was  a  telegram.  The 
second  was  a  note,  which  was  carried  to  the  editori- 
al office  of  that  newspaper  by  Mr.  Allyn,  and  was 
therefore  printed. 

It  was  a  bad  thing  for  the  reporter,  for  it  called 
the  attention  of  his  superiors  and  the  public  to  the 
facts  that,  "  My  niece,  now  visiting  with  me,  did 
not  run  away  or  elope ;  is  not  married ;  was  not 
seen  by  your  reporter,  or  conversed  with ;  and  her 
friend  Mrs.  Boyce,  whom  he  seems  to  have  deter- 
mined to  misrepresent,  is  the  widow  of  the  head  of 
the  late  house  of  Boyce,  MilTIngton  &  Co.  You 
have  been  very  absurdly  victimized".'* 

And  then  everybody  laughed  at  the  great  jour- 
nal, except  the  ladies  whose  names  had  been  bandied 
about  so  freely,  and  the  discharged  reporter  him- 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  JOURNALISM.  297 

self.  The  latter  was  dropped,  as  his  chief  informed 
him,  "  for  being  made  a  fool  of  by  a  woman."  As 
if,  indeed,  he  was  to  blame  for  his  likeness  to  Adam. 

But  the  telegram  brought  to  a  sudden  end  that 
pleasant  vacation  among  the  mountains,  for  Mr. 
Brown  wisely  concluded  that  the  best  way  to  pre- 
vent any  mystery  was  to  have  his  household  under 
his  own  roof. 

A  busy  man  was  he,  and  the  little  mess  provided 
by  the  reporter  did  not  tend  to  clear  his  mind,  so 
that  he  might  well  be  pardoned  if  he  neglected  to 
inform  Dr.  Milyng  and  Fred  Heron  of  the  change 
in  his  family  arrangements.  The  former  was  the 
very  man  to  have  rejoiced  at  it,  but  the  latter  had 
congratulated  himself  only  too  heartily  on  the  exist- 
ing state  of  affairs.  He  had  said  to  himself: 

"If  Miss  Dillaye  has  told  him  anything  about 
Rogers,  she  has  not  been  able  to  mix  me  up  with 
him.  I'll  keep  away  from  the  house  after  she 
gets  home." 

He  had  his  misgivings,  even  then, 'about  what 
might  possibly  come  to  pass,  and  the  more  friendly 
and  confidential  the  treatment  he  received  from 
Mr.  Brown,  the  more  he  felt  disposed  to  give  him 
the  truth  concerning  his  recent  "  absence  from  the 
city."  He  spoke  to  the  doctor  about  it,  but  the 
veteran  of  the  mountains  had  his  little  streak  of 
worldly  wisdom. 

"I   wouldn't,"   he  said.     "It's  none  of  his  busi- 


293 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


ness.  He  wouldn't  see  it  as  I  do.  He  never  was 
in  jail  in  his  life,  and  he'd  be  prejudiced.  No  more 
was  I,  but  I've  done  what  would  have  put  me  there 
if  I'd  tried  it  on  in  the  settlements.  Why,  the  last 
thing  I  did,  before  I  came  east,  was  to  steal  two 
horses  and  a  lot  of  other  things.  That's  a  heap 
worse  than  interfering  with  a  policeman," 

And  so,  sure  of  the  sympathy  of  his  admiring 
friend,  Fred  had  let  matters  drift,  and  Mr.  Brown 
took  a  stronger  liking  to  him  every  day,  insisting 
on  his  coming  to  the  house  for  his  dinner  and  for 
the  talks  about  mining  matters,  not  to  speak  of 
social,  political,  and  religious  questions,  which  the 
rush  of  down-town  business  rendered  impossible  at 
the  office.  But  it  was  the  very  frankness  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  merchant  treated  him  which 
was  beginning  to  trouble  him,  and,  on  the  day  after 
the  sending  of  that  telegram,  he  went  through  Mr. 
.Brown's  front  gate  with  a  mind  made  up.  Come 
what  would,  he  would  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  No 
man  should  be  able  to  say  of  him  that  he  had  ob- 
tained social  recognition  under  false  pretences. 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  him  before,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  the  doctor  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 
ing." 

And  so,  perhaps,  he  ought,  but  there  had  been  a 
great  many  other  things  to  talk  about,  during 
those  few  days  after  he  came  ashore. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

EVEN  A  GOOD  DEED  SOMETIMES  REQUIRES  HUMBLE 
CONFESSION. 

MR.    BROWN    and    Dr.    Milyng   were  in  the 
library  when  Fred   Heron  arrived,  and  were 
busy  over  some  drawings  which  had  that  day  been 
sent  in  from  the  mapmaker's. 

"They  will  do,"  remarked  the  doctor.  "What  do 
you  think  of  them,  Fred  ?  We  will  all  be  out  there 
the  first  thing,  next  spring.  There's  never  any  win- 
ter there,  but  we  must  do  our  travelling  before  the 
hot  weather  sets  in.  Especially  if  we  are  to  have 
lady  company." 

"  Lady  company?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Brown  says  it's  likely  we  may.  We 
shall  not  take  our  machinery  with  usr  you  know. 
Only  a  strong  working  party  to  make  a  good  begin- 
ning and  complete  our  surveys.  The  machinery 
can  follow  us.  We'll  have  a  grand  time." 

Fred's  face  grew  gloomier  with  every  word»  for 
the  mention  of  the  ladies  drove  and  clinched  the  last 
nail  in  his  determination. 

299 


300  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  Then,  doctor,  it's  high  time  Mr.  Brown  knew 
precisely  what  sort  of  a  fellow  he  is  dealing  with 
and  bringing  into  his  house  in  this  way.  Mr. 
Brown,  I  should  have  said  it  earlier,  but  I  say  it 
now.  I  have  been  a  prisoner  on  the  Island." 

"You?     On  the  Island?" 

"All  the  time,  sir,  from  the  very  night  I  first  en- 
tered  this  room  until  the  day  Dr.  Milyng  brought 
me  to  your  office." 

If  one  of  the  quartz  specimens  on  the  table  be- 
fore him  had  touched  itself  off  and  exploded,  Mr. 
Brown's  face  could  hardly  have  put  on  an  expression 
of  greater  astonishment. 

"On  the  Island,  Mr.  Heron?" 

"And  what  is  more,  sir — " 

Just  then  the  door  from  the  hall  swung  open, 
and  Fred  heard  a  great  rustle  of  silk  and  the  like 
behind  him.  He  had  not  been  seated,  and  he 
turned  on  his  feet  to  face  the  unexpected  inter- 
ruption. 

"  Miss  Dillaye!" 

"  Mr.  Rogers  !  O  Uncle  Daniel,  I'm  so  glad  you 
have  found  him.  Has  he  told  you?  I  have  so 
much  to  thank  him  for." 

She  held  her  hand  out  frankly  as  she  spoke, 
and  Fred  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
take  it,  although  his  face  was  crimson  as  he  did 
so,  for  it  looked  still  more  like  a  case  of  false  pre- 
tences. 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  30 1 

"  Was  that  the  name  under  which  you  were  con- 
victed," sternly  demanded  Mr.  Brown. 

"  It  was—" 

"  But,  uncle,  it  was  he  that  wrote  you  about  me. 
He  was  the  only  friend  I  had  there." 

"  There  was  no  name  signed  to  the  letter  I 
received — " 

"  Carrie,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Mabel  Varick,  "  why 
do  you  not  tell  Uncle  Daniel  all  you  told  me?  He 
ought  to  know  why  Mr.  Heron  was  arrested.  Tell 
him.  If  you  won't,  I  will— 

And  Mabel  went  on  like  one  who  could  not  wait 
for  any  other  tongue,  for  never  in  her  life  had  any- 
thing appealed  to  her  like  the  story  her  cousin 
had  told  her  of  the  young  hero  of  the  hospital, 
locked  up  for  his  knightly  interference  in  behalf 
of  the  helpless  against  the  strong.  She  forgot  that 
the  hero  himself  was  standing  there  by  the  library 
table,  and  she  told  the  tale  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  flashing  eyes. 

"  There  is  more  in  that  girl  than  I  thought  there 
was,"  said  Mrs.  Boyce  to  herself.  "  I'm  on  the 
young  man's  side  as  strongly  as  she  is.  Good  for 
Mabel,  but  it  ought  to  have  come  from  Carrie." 

So  thought  Carrie  herself,  and  she  added  all  the 
emphasis  she  knew  how  to  her  cousin's  swift  recital. 
As  for  poor  Fred,  his  head  was  drooping  humbly 
enough,  now,  as  if  he  longed  to  hide  it  somewhere, 
and  then,  to  complete  his  discomfiture,  Dr.  Milyng 


302  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

capped  the  story  of  his  incarceration  with  that  of 
his  superlatively  daring  escape. 

The  merchant  had  not  lost  a  word. 

4<  Saved  my  house  from  burglars/'  he  muttered, 
"and  my  niece  from  prison  and  worse,  and  not  a 
stain  upon  him  that  ought  not  to  be  set  in  pearls !" 

Getting  poetic  in  his  old  age,  as  sure  as  shooting. 

It  was  the  doctor  thought  that,  but  Mr.  Brown 
was  holding  out  his  hand  to  Fred,  with  a  light  on 
his  face  that  the  discovery  of  another  mine  could 
hardly  have  brought  there. 

••'  I'll  hear  your  explanation  of  it  all  some  other 
time,  my  young  friend.  This'll  do  for  once.  We'll 
go  into  dinner  now.  Mrs.  Boyce,  Mr.  Heron.  Mrs. 
Boyce,  Dr.  Milyng." 

"  Both  hands,  please,"  exclaimed  the  widow,  as 
she  held  out  her  own  to  Fred.  "  I'm  glad  there  are 
such  men.  I  don't  care  if  you've  been  in  fifty  jails, 
if  you  got  there  in  such  a  way." 

"  My  only  experience  of  the  kind,  I  assure  you. 
God  keep  me  from  such  another." 

That  was  a  dinner-table,  indeed,  and  the  girls 
could  hardly  eat  for  sheer  excitement.  It  was  less 
to  be  wondered  at  in  Carrie's  case,  for  all  the  reali- 
ties of  her  terrible  adventure  were  brought  back  to 
her  most  vividly,  but  it  was  odd  fora  young  woman 
like  Mabel  Varick  to  be  stirred  up  by  the  fortunes 
and  misfortunes  of  a  man  whom  she  had  first  en- 
countered as  an  avowed  tramp,  rescued  from  a  dog- 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  303 

watched  tree  in  her  own  front  yard.  But  then  the 
lives  of  well-bred  young  ladies  have  so  few  ripples 
of  genuine  disturbance  in  them,  and  these  two  had 
returned  from  the  country  in  no  very  equable  frame 
of  mind. 

Mrs.  Boyce  was  in  her  element,  and  Mr.  Brown's 
close  observation  of  his  young  guest  more  than  ever 
convinced  him  that  the  "  tramp"  felt  very  much  at 
home  in  the  character  and  associations  of  a  gentleman. 

Very  modest  was  Fred,  for  the  attentions  he  re- 
ceived were  by  no  means  easy  to  bear,  and  he  con- 
stantly  sheltered  himself  behind  the  free,  exuberant 
talk  of  the  thoroughly  delighted  doctor. 

Such  tales  of  mountain  life  and  western  adven- 
ture as  the  latter  did  tell! — all  of  them  true,  be- 
yond a  doubt,  but  losing  nothing  by  his  telling. 

"And  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  ladies,"  he  said, 
11  there's  nothing  I've  told  you  that  called  for  any 
more  courage  than  Fred's  jump  into  the  river  to  be 
swept  out  to  sea  by  the  tide.  There  are  not  many 
men  I  know  of  that  would  care  to  try  that.  I'm 
going  to  give  Fred  a  mining  claim  for  every  hun- 
dred yards  he  swam." 

And,  after  dinner,  there  were  the  wonderful  ores 
to  be  examined,  and  the  story  of  the  Golden  Heart 
to  be  told,  and  all  the  thrilling  adventures  of  the 
long,  perilous,  lonely  march  to  the  settlements, 
over  mountains  and  deserts.  And  when,  late  in  the 
evening,  Fred  Heron  took  his  departure,  he  left 


304  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

behind  him  enough  of  red-hot  mining  enthusiasm 
to  have  furnished  forth  a  dozen  companies  instead 
of  one. 

To  be  sure,  the  summer  was  over,  and  bad  weather 
would  be  sure  to  come  on  before  preparations  for 
active  operations  could  be  completed. 

The  doctor  and  his  friends  understood  that  well 
enough,  but  they  could  prepare,  just  the  same. 
Machinery  could  be  bought  or  manufactured  and 
sent  upon  its  long  way  westward.  All  eastern  busi- 
ness which  might  otherwise  interfere  could  be  stead- 
ily closed  up  or  set  in  order  to  take  care  of  itself. 
In  short,  the  proposed  mining  and  exploring  expe- 
dition could  be  rendered  all  the  more  complete  and 
sure  of  a  comfortable  success  by  reason  of  not 
sending  it  out  in  a  hurry. 

Meantime,  the  Golden  Heart  would  wait,  in  the 
centre  of  its  supposed  "system,"  whether  or  not 
that  had  any  existence  outside  of  the  feverish  brain 
of  its  discoverer. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  quality  of  the 
.specimen  ores  he  had  brought  with  him,  as  the  re- 
port of  the  assayer  abundantly  testified,  and  Mr. 
Brown's  other  dreams  took  on  an  aspect  of  some- 
thing like  reality  as  he  perused  that  same  report. 

Fred  Heron  slept  more  soundly  than  might  have 
been  expected  the  night  after  that  dinner  at  Mr. 
Brown's,  for  a  considerable  load  had  been  lifted 
from  his  mind.  He  had  less  and  less  doubt,  too, 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  305 

about  his  own  future,  whether  or  not  he  should  turn 
out  a  successful  miner.  It  would  be  hardly  fair  to 
expose  the  peculiarly  mixed  character  of  some  ot 
his  dreams,  however,  or  the  extent  to  which  they 
were  confused  by  the  entry  of  enthusiastic  females 
in  rustling  drapery.  He  could  but  confess  to  him- 
self that  Carrie  Dillaye  looked  wonderfully  im- 
proved, in  her  city  surroundings,  from  the  sorrow- 
ful girl  he  had  known  on  the  Island,  but  for  all 
that  he  was  compelled  to  add,  and  this  when  he 
was  wide  awake,  and  not  in  any  dream  : 

"But  she  does  not  compare  with  her  cousin. 
She  was  splendid,  to-night.  Handsomer  than  she 
looked,  at  the  window,  the  first  time  I  saw  her.  I'm 
on  better  terms  with  Prince,  now,  than  I  was  then." 

And  that  meant  a  good  deal,  considering  whose 
dog  Prince  was,  and  what  sort  of  a  dog. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FRED  HERON  RENEWS  SOME  OF  HIS  FAMILY  TIES. 

FRED  HERON  was  a  man  of  what  are  called 
"  strong  family  instincts,"  whatever  may  have 
at  any  time  appeared  to  the  contrary,  and  one  of 
his  first  doings  on  finding  himself  restored  to  the 
world  had  been  to  write  a  long  letter  to  his  sister. 
Another  had  been  to  hunt  up  his  brother  Augustus. 

In  his  letter  to  Bessie  he  had  a  good  deal  to  say, 
of  course,  concerning  his  new  employment,  although 
he  somehow  failed  to  give  the  names  of  those  with 
whom  he  found  himself  associated. 

"Just  Fred's  way,"  she  said  to  herself,  when  she 
read  the  letter.  "  I've  no  means  of  learning  about 
them.  I'd  write  to  them  on  his  behalf  if  he  had 
only  given  me  an  opportunity.  Anyhow,  I'll  write 
to  Mrs.  Baird.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Baird  would  not  mind 
hunting  the  matter  up  for  me.  Poor,  foolish  boy. 
What  will  become  of  him?  To  think,  after  all  the 
mistakes  he  has  made,  of  his  mixing  himself  up  with 
gold-hunters  and  such  people.  I'll  write  and  tell 


THE  Y  ME  T  BY  CHA  NCE.  307 

him  what  I  think  of  it,  anyhow.  He  shall  never 
say  I  did  not  do  my  duty  by  him." 

And  so  she  did,  copiously,  and  her  brother  was 
fully  warned,  so  far  as  faithful  words  could  warn 
him,  of  the  character  and  purposes  of  the  disreput- 
able sharpers  who  had  drawn  him  into  their  wild 
and  visionary  schemes. 

He  must  at  once,  she  said,  shake  himself  clear 
of  his  fresh  entanglements,  and  take  some  honor- 
able and  lucrative  position  which  would  enable  him 
to  do  justice  to  himself  and  to  others. 

"Yes,"  he  had  remarked,  when  he  came  to  that, 
"I  guess  I'd  better  take  a  bank.  Nothing  bet- 
ter than  that,  unless  it  is  a  large  landed  estate. 
Either  would  do.  The  only  difficulty  is  that  when 
fellows  take  those  things  other  fellows  make  a  ter- 
rible fuss  about  it." 

What  would  Bessie  have  thought  and  written 
had  she  known  that  there  were  ladies  in  the  case, 
and  that  her  brother  was  likely  to  be  thrown  a  good 
deal  into  their  society?  If  there  was  one  danger 
against  which  she  had  persistently  warned  him  it 
had  been  the  designing  character  of  her  own  sex, 
and  thus  far  he  had  seemed  disposed  to  be  more 
or  less  guided,  in  that  particular.  She  could  at  least 
congratulate  herself  upon  her  success  in  breaking  up 
and  dissipating  the  most  serious  peril  of  the  kind 
which  had  ever  taken  hold  of  him. 

But  Fred's  second  letter,  like  his  first,  preserved 


308  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

a  sphinx-like  silence  concerning  those  "  mining  even- 
ings" as  he  called  them,  which  he  was  now  so  fre- 
quently passing,  with  Dr.  Milyng  and  the  rest,  over 
Mr.  Brown's  library  table. 

To  be  sure,  the  talk  did  not  always  run  upon 
mines,  for  the  doctor  himself  had  an  endless  fund 
of  other  reminiscences,  and  was  by  no  means  ignor- 
ant of  books,  and  Fred. 

Well,  the  more  they  knew  him,  and  the  more  he 
unfolded  to  them  the  facts  of  his  history,  the  more 
they  were  disposed  to  deal  charitably,  to  say  the 
least,  with  their  strange  acquaintance. 

"  He's  a  wonderful  fellow/'  said  Mrs.  Boyce, 
"and  I  don't  believe  weVe  heard  a  tenth  of  what 
he  must  have  gone  through.  There  are  matters  he 
does  not  mention,  depend  upon  it,  and  I  do  not 
believe  they  are  at  all  discreditable  to  him." 

"  What  sort  of  matters  ?"  said  Carrie. 

"  Well,  family  matters,  for  instance.  He  has  told 
us  nothing  about  his  .immediate  connections.  I'd 
like  to  know  about  them." 

"  He  must  have  some." 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  I'm  not  sure  but  I  have  a  sort 
of  a  clue.  I've  waited  for  some  word  from  him  be- 
fore mentioning  it,  but  I  heard  of  Fred  Heron  be- 
fore I  ever  saw  him." 

"You  did?"  exclaimed  both  of  the  girls,  as  if 
with  one  voice. 

"Yes" — and  then  followed  a  detailed  account  of 


THE Y ME T BY  CHA NCR.  309 

the  widow's  call  on  Mrs.  Baird,  and  her  meeting 
with  Bessie,  and  all  she  knew  of  that  young  lady. 
There  could  be  no  question  of  Fred's  identity  with 
the  "  erring  brother,"  but  the  interest  attaching  to 
him  was  none  the  less.  Certainly  not  by  reason  of 
any  lack  of  accuracy  in  Mrs.  Boyce's  estimate  and 
description  of  Bessie  Heron.  For  once  in  her  life 
Bessie  had  really  given  Fred  a  lift,  and  it  was  a 
great  pity  she  could  not  have  known  it,  and  known, 
too,  just  how  the  lift  was  given. 

"  O  Mrs.  Boyce,"  said  Mabel,  "  if  you  would  only 
call  on  Mrs.  Baird  and  see  if  you  £an  learn  any 
more.  I'd  even  like  to  know  'about  his  sister,  and 
what  she  is  doing  now." 

v  I  do  not  believe  she  half  appreciates  him,"  ex- 
claimed Carrie. 

"  People  who  appreciate  themselves  too  well 
rarely  get  correct  ideas  of  others,  my  dear.  But  I 
have  already  seen  Mrs.  Baird.  There  was  very  lit- 
tle she  could  tell  me.  She  was  glad  to  hear  that 
Fred  was  doing  well.  His  sister  is  in  the  west,  and 
seems  to  be  quite  comfortable.  It  is  my  belief, 
from  what  Mrs.  Baird  told  me,  he  sent  her  his  last 
d3llar,  just  before  he  was  put  on  the  Island." 

"  It  would  be  just  what  I  would  expect  of  him," 
said  Carrie.  "  Think  of  his  giving  me  those  lemons 
when  he  was  so  sick  himself." 

"Any  Christian  ought  to  have  done  that,"  re- 
marked Mabel,  severely. 


3 10  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  And  how  many  of  them  would  have  given  away 
both  lemons?  Besides,  Mr.  Heron  is  not  a  Chris- 
tian." 

"  Isn't  he?     How  do  you  know?'* 

"  He  has  such  queer  notions — 

"  I  wish  some  other  people  had  'em,  then — 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  as  I  used  to  be,  what  it  takes 
to  make  a  Christian  of  a  man,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Boyce.  "At  all  events,  if  Mr.  Heron  does  not  wish 
to  talk  of  his  family,  we  have  no  right  to  make  him. 
He  may,  some  day." 

"  I  hope  so,"  quietly  remarked  Mabel. 

But  they  were  to  meet  with  one  of  Fred's  rela- 
tives, at  least,  before  a  great  while. 

When  he  went  to  Mrs.  Gibbs's  boarding-house  for 
his  trunk,  to  remove  it  to  more  convenient  quarters, 
he  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  the  present  address  of 
his  brother  Augustus,  and  he  remained  in  ignor- 
ance of  it  until  he  met  him  in  that  great  world's 
reception  room,  "  the  street." 

A  good  looking,  well-dressed  fellow,  was  Mr. 
Augustus  Heron,  and  he  seemed  as  much  delighted 
as  surprised  to  meet  with  his  even  better-dressed, 
if  not  quite  so  handsome,  elder  brother.  If  the 
good  clothes  were  anything  of  a  puzzle  to  him  he 
made  no  mention  of  the  fact.  He  may  have  been 
accustomed  to  expecting  unexpected  things  from 
Fred. 

A  good  deal  was  said,  on  both  sides,  in  a  very 


THE Y ME T BY  CHANCE.  3  j  I 

few  moments,  but  Augustus  learned  nothing  con- 
cerning the  Island,  and  little  more  than  the  name 
of  the  mining  company. 

As  they  talked  they  walked,  and  when  Augustus 
remarked  : 

"  Hold  on,  Fred,  I've  some  business  in  here  at 
Brown's.  Won't  keep  me  three  minutes,"  Fred 
simply  responded  :  "  So  have  I,"  and  entered  with 
him. 

The  business  which  had  brought  Augustus  had 
made  necessary  a  note  of  introduction  from  the 
very  reputable  house  in  whose  employ 'he  was,  and 
this,  when  handed  to  Mr.  Brown,  elicited  the  in- 
quiry: 

"Heron?  Any  way  connected  with  my  young 
friend  Frederick.  Ah,  Mr.  Heron,  is  that  you  ? 
Come  in." 

"  My  brother,  sir,"  responded  the  astonished 
Augustus,  as  Fred  leaned  over  the  desk  assigned 
him  as  secretary  and  so  forth,  and  began  to  examine 
some  papers  and  open  a  letter  or  two. 

"  Brother,  eh?  Is  that  so,  Fred?  Glad  to  know 
you,  sir.  Know  your  house  very  well.  Senior 
partner  is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  You  must  bring 
your  brother  to  the  house,  Fred.  Why  can  he  not 
come  this  evening?" 

"Give  me  sincere  pleasure,"  remarked  Augustus, 
before  his  brother  could  say  a  word,  and  the  latter 
could  only  add : 


312 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


11  Thank  you,  Mr.  Brown.  We  will  be  there  soon 
after  dinner — " 

"  Come  to  dinner,  both  of  you.  It'll  be  a  great 
deal  pleasanter." 

So  it  would,  not  only  for  the  young  men,  but,  it 
might  be,  for  others.  As  for  Mr.  Brown  himself,  he 
might  well  be  pardoned  if  under  his  cordial  hospi- 
tality were  concealed  a  vague  idea  of  acquiring  in- 
formation. 

Fred  Heron  would  hardly  have  planned  precisely 
that  arrangement  if  all  had  been  left  to  him,  but 
his  brother  was  precisely  the  man  to  understand 
and  appreciate,  yea,  and  to  grasp,  the  social  advan- 
tages involved  in  an  invitation  to  dinner  at  so  ex- 
cellent a  house  as  that  of  the  great  merchant.  He 
had  his  social  capacities,  too,  of  a  very  respectable 
order,  and  before  that  evening  was  over  he  had 
done  for  Fred  at  least  the  service  of  confirming 
Mr.  Brown's  opinion  of  their  birth  and  breeding. 
He  hardly  knew  how  much  more  he  had  told  to 
such  keen  eyes  and  practised  ears  as  those  which 
had  been  around  him  during  what  he  described  as 
a  "truly  delightful  time." 

The  worst  accusation  brought  against  many  peo- 
ple is  that  they  "  do  not  improve  their  advantages," 
and  Mr.  Augustus  Heron  may  have  been  one  of 
these,  in  times  past.  In  fact,  his  sister  Bessie  had 
more  than  once  dimly  hinted  as  much  under  the 
form  of  accusing  Fred  of  not  improving  them  for 


THE Y ME T BY  CHA NCE.  3 1 3 

him,  but  he  did  not  propose,  evidently,  to  thro\v 
away  the  good-  things  of  his  immediate  present.  In 
fact,  he  was  disposed  to  stretch  them  into  the  futuni 
as  much  as  possible. 

His  employers,  next  day,  were  well  enough  pleased 
to  find  where  he  had  spent  his  evening,  as  well  as  to 
learn  that: 

"  Mr.  Brown's  a  great  friend  of  my  brother  Fred, 
you  know.  Fred  and  he  are  working  some  mines 
together." 

It  was  about  as  good  as  a  promotion  for  Gus, 
and  secured  him  a  very  good  report  when  next 
their  senior  partner  found  himself  in  conversation 
with  the  merchant. 

It  is  curious  how  our  friends  do  improve  on  our 
hands  when  we  find,  or  think  we  are  finding,  how 
very  creditable  to  them  their  other  friends  are. 

From  that  time  forward,  however,  the  Brown 
household  found  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to  com- 
prehend their  first  acquaintance. 

While  Augustus  was  fond  of  society,  of  amuse- 
ments-, and  always  at  the  service  of  his  lady  friends, 
Fred  persistently  refused  to  go  anywhere  or  see 
anybody.  He  even  came  less  and  less  frequently 
to  the  house,  and  never  except  in  company  with 
Mr.  Brown  and  the  doctor. 

The  latter  saw  less  to  wonder  at  in  it  all,  for  he 
knew  with  what  patient  and  successful  assiduity 
Fred  was  devoting  himself  to  his  new  profession  of 


314  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

miner.  He  knew  of  lectures  attended  ;  books  de- 
voured ;  geological  cabinets  ransacked  and  studied ; 
chemists  consulted  ;  all  sorts  of  mechanical  and  en- 
gineering information  gathered  and  stored  away, 
with  marvellous  rapidity.  It  was,  in  the  doctor's 
opinion,  precisely  the  course  which  ought  to  have 
been  pursued  by  a  man  in  such  a  position,  and  he 
said  as  much  to  Mr.  Brown. 

The  merchant  very  warmly  assented,  but  he  some- 
how neglected  to  explain  the  matter  at  home,  per- 
haps not  thinking  any  explanation  necessary,  and 
it  was  the  less  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  ladies 
sought  for  one  of  their  own.  Mrs.  Boyce  did,  at 
least. 

She  had  employed  Fred,  very  confidentially,  to 
dispose  of  some  of  her  diamonds  for  her,  and  he 
had  done  the  business  remarkably  well,  and  she 
was  saying  as  much  to  Mabel  Varick,  and  adding: 

"He's  a  very  trustworthy  fellow.  Not  the  sort 
that  are  ever  favorites  with  young  ladies,  but  none 
the  worse  for  that." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  say  that,  Mrs. 
Boyce.  I'm  sure  we  have  treated  him  very  well. 
It  is  not  our  fault  if  he  does  not  come  here.  He 
is  a  proud-spirited  young  gentleman.  Anybody 
can  see  that,  and  there  are  reasons  we  know  of  for 
his  avoiding  society." 

"  Have  you  never  thought  of  anything  else, 
Mabel?" 


THE  Y  ME  T  BY  CHA  NCR.  3  T  jj 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mabel,  with  a  slight  flush  on 
her  cheek.  "  What  else  should  there  be?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  under  what  romantic  cir- 
cumstances he  became  acquainted  with  Carrie?" 

"  So  they  were,  and  I  have  heard  her  express 
her  gratitude  and  respect  a  hundred  times." 

"Gratitude  and  respect?  And  see  how  she  has 
taken  up  with  Augustus.  Why,  it  almost  seems 
to  me  as  if  I  ought  to  speak  about  it  to  Mr. 
Brown." 

"  She  is  of  age,  and  Mr.  Heron  comes  here  by 
my  uncle's  invitation." 

"  I  know  that,  but  that  is  not  everything.  Au- 
gustus Heron  is  a  very  handsome  fellow." 

"  But  what  has  all  that  got  to  do  with  his  brother  ? 
Frederick  is  worth  a  dozen  of  him." 

Cunning  Mrs.  Boyce !  How  very  much  she  thought 
she  was  gathering  from  that  frank  and  unembar- 
rassed expression  of  opinion.  She  did  not  know, 
however,  how  relieved  Mabel  Varick  felt  after  she 
had  succeeded  in  making  it.  She  even  succeeded 
in  concealing  the  effort,  and  that  is  sometimes  the 
very  hardest  thing  to  do. 

But  if  Mrs.  Boyce  did  not  learn  a  great  deal  from 
Mabel,  neither  did  she  from  Fred  himself.  She 
did  not  even  know  that  he  had  felt  called  upon, 
already,  to  speak  pretty  freely  with  his  brother. 
So  freely  that  something  almost  akin  to  a  coolness 
had  sprung  up  between  them. 


316  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Mrs.  Boyce  thought  she  discovered  signs  of  that, 
indeed,  although  she  had  a  somewhat  incorrect  idea 
of  the  possible  cause.  The  most  skilful  physicians 
err,  at  times,  in  the  diagnosis  they  make  of  internal 
difficulties,  and  there  are  none  so  deceptive  and 
misleading  in  their  symptoms  as  are  affections  of 
the  heart. 

What  is  described  before  death  as  something 
else,  or  as  an  "  enlargement,"  turns  out,  on  a  post 
mortem,  to  be  only  an  ossification. 

What  curious  discoveries  will  be  made  concern- 
ing the  hearts  of  most  of  us  when  the  angels  make 
our  final  post  mortem  for  us.  Such  "cases"  as  they 
must  have,  from  time  to  time,  and  with  such  mar- 
vellous "  complications,"  displacements,  lesions,  and 
such  curiously  obstructive  "  fatty  deposits." 

Of  course  it  was  impossible  that  Mr.  Augustus 
Heron  should  not  gradually  become  acquainted 
with  the  peculiar  relations  existing  between  Carrie 
Dillaye  and  the  other  members  of  her  family.  In 
fact,  he  one  day  astonished  the  astute  and  cautious 
Mr.  Allyn  by  a  conversational  revelation  of  the  ex- 
tent and  accuracy  of  the  information  he  had  ac- 
quired on  that  head.  So  much  so  that  the  lawyer 
felt  himself  almost  compelled,  from  that  time 
forward,  to  take  the  young  man  into  his  con- 
fidence, after  his  own  sagacious  and  unconfidential 
manner. 

The  open-heartedness  with  which  some  men  will 


THE Y ME T BY  CHA NCR.  3 1 7 

permit  another  to  tell  them  all  he  knows  has  some- 
thing  touching  in  it.  Mr.  Allyn  was  one  of  those 
men. 

Still,  he  was  thereby  enabled  to  make  himseltf 
reasonably  sure  against  Mr.  Augustus  Heron  telling 
the  same  things  to  anybody  else. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

DR.   MILYNG  AND  OTHERS  ARE   COMPELLED  TO  SUB- 
MIT TO  DELAY, 

MR.  DANIEL  BROWN  was  not  the  man  to 
make  an  unnecessary  secret  of  anything,  and 
yet  all  that  the  business  world  knew  of  his  mining 
plans  was  that  he  had  somehow  acquired  an  inter- 
est in  some  seemingly  valuable  claims,  and  pro- 
posed paying  them  a  visit  to  ascertain  their  true 
character  before  putting  any  considerable  amount 
of  money  in  them. 

"Just  like  him,"  said  his  friends.  "Trust  old 
Brown  not  to  get  his  fingers  bitten.  He's  going  to 
make  it  a  summer  tour  and  picnic.  Wish  he'd  in- 
vite me  to  join  him.  They'll  have  a  grand  time. 
He  knows  how  to  do  up  that  sort  of  thing  in  style. 
If  he  doesn't  make  a  cent  out  of  his  mines  he'll 
make  everything  else  he  can." 

It  never  occurred  to  one  of  them  that  their  hard- 
headed  emblem  of  commercial  common  sense  had 
actually  been  bitten  by  the  golden  serpent  aspoison- 
ously,  almost,  as  Dr.  Milyng  himself. 

318 


WAITING  ASA  FINE  AR T.  319 

Very  few  of  them  knew  anything  of  the  doctor, 
but  those  who  had  met  Mr.  Secretary  Heron  were 
compelled  to  admit  that  Mr.  Brown  had  shown  his 
usual  good  judgment  in  the  very  quiet,  intelligent, 
industrious  young  man  he  had  selected. 

What  if  they  had  known  that  Fred  swam  over 
from  the  Island  to  enter  Mr.  Brown's  employment  ? 

That  might  have  opened  their  eyes. 

But,  as  the  weeks  and  months  went  by,  not  the 
least  important  and  difficult  of  Fred's  duties  and 
responsibilities  was  his  care  of  Dr.  Milyng  himself. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  wide  world  so  uneasy  as 
a  fish  out  of  water. 

Did  you  ever  catch  one  ? 

The  prevailing  impression  among  ignorant  people 
is  that  all  his  flopping  and  flouncing  is  occasioned  by 
the  suffering  he  endures  on  being  snatched  from  his 
proper  element. 

Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  is  taking  in  too  much  oxygen, 
and  taking  it  in  by  the  wrong  way — from  the  air  in- 
stead  of  the  water,  that  is  all. 

Dr.  Milyng  was  no  longer  among  Tiis  ledges  and 
placers,  but  he  was  as  much  possessed  by  his  mining 
fever  as  ever.  Day  after  day  he  came  forward  with 
some  new  "  claim"  or  discovery,  raked  up  from  the 
maps  and  tracings  of  his  wanderings  among  the 
mountains,  and  which  he  deemed  it  wise  to  add  to 
the  already  enormous  assets  of  the  great  company. 
Day  after  day,  too,  his  notions  of  the  proper  valu- 


32O  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

ation  of  those  assets  grew  and  flourished,  until  Mr. 
Brown  told  him  : 

"  Now,  doctor,  I'm  perfectly  willing  we  should 
pay  the  national  debt,  by-and-by.  It  would  hardly 
be  noticed  if  taken  from  such  a  pile  as  ours.  But 
suppose  we  do  not  print  the  stock  and  bonds  for  it 
till  we  get  some  of  the  bullion  into  our  treasury." 

The  doctor  could  stand  any  amount  of  good- 
natured  chaffing,  but  one  thing  he  could  not  do, 
and  that  was  to  measure  his  current  expenditures 
by  the  gold  in  his  pocket  rather  than  by  that  which 
was  waiting  for  him  in  the  Sierras.  'If  he  could  have 
had  his  own  way  it  would  have  required  some  car- 
loads, at  least,  to  make  good  the  drafts  he  desired 
the  company's  treasury  to  cash  before  a  pound  .of 
its  machinery  had  been  shipped  westward.  It  was 
well  for  him  that  Mr.  Brown  held  the  purse,  and 
that  he  stood  in  very  wholesome  awe  of  Mr. 
Brown,  as  of  a  man  on  whom  depended  the  future 
of  the  Golden  Heart. 

For  the  doctor's  heart  was  there,  after  all,  and 
not  in  the  city.  He  would  have  starved  himself 
and  gone  in  rags  rather  than  have  thrown  away  the 
dazzling  dream  of  conducting  a  working  party  to 
the  mouth  of  that  treasury  of  the  world. 

And  now  the  time  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  the 
set  time  for  the  departure  of  the  expedition,  and  all 
things  were  assuming  a  prepared  and  perfected 
shape. 


WA I  TING  ASA  FINE  ART.  321 

There  was  not  a  loose  peg  left  in  the  arrangement 
of  Mr.  Brown's  business  affairs.  The  doctor  could 
not  think  of  an  article  of  probable  need  which  had 
not  been  either  purchased,  or  at  least  declared  un- 
necessary by  Mr.  Brown  and  Fred  Heron.  The 
heavier  goods  had  all  been  shipped,  even,  and  that 
which  had  for  so  long  a  time  been  a  beautiful  dream 
and  a  thing  of  the  future  began  to  put  on  more  and 
more  the  semblance  of  a  positive  reality. 

Only  one  matter  somehow  refused  to  be  settled, 
and  that  was  what  troubled  the  soul  of  Mr.  Allyn. 

Do  what  he  could,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dillaye  managed 
to  put  him  off,  and  they  were  aided  and  abetted  to 
a  certain  extent  by  Mr.  Brown. 

They  had  counted  on  that,  very  deliberately,  or  at 
least  Mrs.  Dillaye  had  done  so,  and  had  courageously 
sustained  her  sometimes  faltering  husband.  Of 
course  they  had  not  interposed  anything  like  a  re- 
fusal to  settle,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  securi- 
ties involved  had  been  from  time,  to  time  surrendered, 
but  the  "  settlement"  seemed  as  far  away  as  ever, 
and  there  were  no  symptoms  of  a  coming  delivery 
of  the  real  estate.  Carrie  herself  had  objected  to 
any  proceedings  which  would  involve  a  public  scan- 
dal, and  the  only  one  thing  in  which  she  had  ex- 
hibited any  feeling  of  bitterness  was  in  her  persis- 
tent refusal  to  hold  any  personal  conference  with 
her  father  or  step-mother.  So  clearly  had  she  stated 
her  determination  to  this  effect  that  even  Mrs. 


322 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


Dillaye  had  given  the  matter  up  as  hopeless,  for  the 
present. 

"  She  will  be  more  easily  reached  after  Mr.  Brown 
goes  west,"  she  said  to  her  husband,  when  the 
mining  adventure  was  detailed  to  her. 

"  But  suppose  he  takes  Carrie  with  him  ?" 

"With  him?  Do  you  mean  there  are  ladies 
going?" 

"Quite  a  party." 

"Well,  then,  he  will  do  nothing  against  us,  more 
than  he  has  done,  before  they  get  back.  Every 
postponement  is  of  value  to  us,  now.  If  we  can 
tide  over  the  spring  and  summer,  we  shall  be  all 
right." 

"But  suppose  Carrie  should  get  married?" 

"  We  must  prevent  that.  If  we  hear  of  anything 
of  the  kind  on  foot,  it  will  be  our  duty  to  let  the 
party  in  interest  know  her  history.  That  would 
always  be  enough,  I  think." 

"  I  should  say  it  would.  Few  men  would  care  to 
have  that  kind  of  a  wife." 

"She  has  property." 

"  But  nobody  knows  that.  Even  Mr.  Brown  can- 
not say  much  about  that,  just  now,  and  he  won't. 

Hit  or  miss,  that  was  the  policy  determined  upon, 
and  it  so  far  succeeded  that  when  Mr.  Brown's  other 
preparations  were  all  complete  he  was  unable  to  in- 
clude among  them  a  settlement  of  Carrie's  affairs. 
And  Carrie  bit  her  lips  over  it,  but  of  late  she  had 


WAITING  ASA  FINE  AR  T.  323 

seemed  more  sedate  than  formerly,  with  less  of  what 
Mrs.  Boyce  called  "a  slight  tendency  to  frivolity." 

The  cares  of  the  world  sat  lightly  upon  her  at  all 
times,  but  there  had  not  been,  since  she  entered 
her  uncle's  house,  the  least  "out-cropping,"  as  Dr. 
Milyng  would  have  called  it,  of  her  unfortunate 
constitutional  tendency. 

"  In  many  respects  a  most  remarkable  young 
woman,"  said  Mrs.  Boyce  to  herself. 

But  if  Carrie  was  an  enigma  to  the  penetrating 
eyes  and  practised  sagacity  of  the  widow,  she  was  a 
thousand  times  more  so  to  the  youth  and  inex- 
perience of  Mabel  Varick.  Much  as  she  loved  her 
cousin,  Mabel  could  but  feel  that  their  relations 
were  less  intimate  than  at  the  first,  and  she  strove 
in  vain  to  account  for  it. 

"  Could  Augustus  Heron  have  anything  to  do  with 
it?  I  don't  believe  she  cares  for  him,  but  if  she  does, 
can  she  imagine  I  would  interfere?  I'd  like  to  un- 
deceive her,  that's  all.  But  what  can  have  become 
of  his  brother.  He's  hardly  here  at  all  nowadays." 

And  Mabel  had  other  perplexities  which  did  not 
decrease  with  time.  The  interest  which  Mrs. 
Boyce  had  taken  in  the  mining  affair,  and  the  energy 
with  which  she  had  identified  herself  with  the  expe- 
dition, had  done  as  much  as  anything  else  to  settle 
her  position  as  a  member  of  Mr.  Brown's  household 
until  all  that  should  be  over,  but  Mabel  could  but 
ask  herself,  now  and  then,  "How  about  the  future? 


^ 24  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Will  she  come  back  with  us?  Is  it  to  be  a  perman- 
ency? I  wish  I  knew  what  Uncle  Daniel  thinks 
about  it." 

And  the  question  should  rather  have  been,  if  he 
thought  at  all  about  it. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  A  man  of  his  age 
and  knowledge  of  the  world3  How  could  he  but 
think? 

Well,  what  if  he  thought  that,  with  two  young, 
unmarried  nieces  in  his  house,  it  was  an  absolute 
necessity  they  should  have  an  older  and  wiser  com- 
panion, a  lady  of  discretion,  education,  high  char- 
acter, to  advise  them,  and  to  play  propriety  for 
them?  Especially  if  they  were  to  travel,  would  it 
not  be  needful  that  he  should  provide  them  with  a 
Mrs.  Boyce?  And  who  so  admirably  fitted  for  the 
position  as  the  very  Mrs.  Boyce  herself? 

He  may  have  had  some  such  train  of  thought,  at 
some  time.  He  certainly  did  when  he  came  to  con- 
sider the  "mining  and  exploring  picnic,"  for  the 
"  quite  a  party"  referred  to  by  Mr.  Dillaye  included 
none  besides  the  ladies  of  his  own  household. 

No  invitation  was  extended  to  Mr.  Augustus 
Heron,  and  it  may  be  Mr.  Brown  decided,  in  a 
friendly  way,  that  it  would  not  be  well  to  take  the 
young  man  for  so  long  a  time  from  his  business 
pursuits.  If  he  did  not  neglect  the  invitation  on 
that  ground,  the  result  was  all  the  same. 

And  yet,  when  the  morning  set  for  the  departure 


WAITING  ASA  FINE  ART.  325 

actually  arrived,  among  the  little  crowd  which 
gathered  at  the  Brown  mansion  to  say  good-by, 
came  Augustus  Heron  with  a  satchel  in  his  hand. 

"Am  I  not  fortunate?"  he  said  to  Mr.  Brown. 
"  Our  house  has  given  me  a  commission  for  them 
in  Pittsburg,  and  I  can  travei  that  far  in  your  com- 
pany.  Combine  business  with  pleasure." 

And  Mr.  Brown  smiled  assent  in  a  curious  sort 
of  way,  for  there  were  three  others  talking  to  him 
at  the  time. 

Fred  took  his  brother's  presence  a  good  deal  as 
a  matter  of  course,  not  seeming  to  be  overjoyed 
about  it,  at  all  events,  and  he  won  golden  opinions 
from  Mrs.  Boyce  by  the  attention  and  thoughtful- 
ness  with  which  he  prevented  the  least  "jar"  or 
oversight  in  the  perplexing  process  of  getting  so 
large  a  party  safely  lodged  in  their  own  proper 
palace-car  at  the  depot. 

As  for  Dr.  Milyng,  a  more  uselessly  enthusiastic 
individual  never  stood  on  two  feet.  He  could 
hardly  have  sworn  to  that  much  on  his  own  account, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could  already  see  the 
white-capped  Sierras  rising  around  him,  and  he  half 
felt  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  on  the  look-out 
for  roving  bands  of  Apaches  and  other  of  the  kindly 
neighbors  he  and  his  friends  were  about  to  visit. 

This  too,  although  the  latest  news  from  the  min- 
ing regions  had  been  to  the  effect  that  the  United 
States  cavalry,  under  General  Crump,  had  entirely 


326  THE  HEAR T  OF  IT. 

pacified  the  immediate  locality  of  the  Golden 
Heart,  in  a  succession  of  brilliant  encounters,  fol- 
lowed by  a  "very  advantageous  treaty." 

If  Carrie  Dillaye  felt  sadly  at  missing  either  her 
father  or  her  step-mother  among  the  "  good-by 
party,"  she  made  no  outward  sign  of  it.  Neither 
could  Mrs.  Boyce's  eyes  detect  the  least  flutter  of 
either  pleasure  or  the  reverse  when  Augustus  Heron 
announced  his  good  fortune. 

"  I  really  do  not  understand  her,"  said  the  widow 
to  herself. 

She  was  absolutely  right  in  that,  and  so  is  any 
woman  when  she  says  the  same  thing  of  any  other. 
Because  why,  there  is  no  woman  who  does  not  contain 
possibilities  of  which  even  she  herself,  let  alone  all 
others  of  her  sex,  has  but  a  dim  and  imperfect  con- 
ception. And  these  possibilities  may  be  for  either 
good  or  evil,  or  both. 

*Men  get  over  the  difficulty  admirably  well  by 
giving  it  up  to  begin  with. 

But  there  comes  to  every  train,  whether  composed 
mainly  of  palace-cars  or  not,  a  moment  when  the 
heartless  conductor  looks  at  his  watch  and  shouts : 

"All  aboard." 

From  that  moment  the  train  and  its  passengers 
condenses  into  .a  little  world  by  itself,  cognizant  of 
other  worlds,  indeed,  but  separated  from  them  by 
the  very  speed  with  which  it  rushes  forward  upon 
its  own  curves.  The  inhabitants  of  that  world,  too, 


WAITING  AS  A  FINE  ART.  ^ 2 7 

are  apt  soon  to  become  absorbed  with  either  them- 
selves  or  one  another,  with  a  perpetual  undertone, 
if  the  trip  be  a  long  one,  of  "shall  we  get  there 
without  an  accident  ?" 

And  sometimes  the  unspoken  question  is  answered 
for  them  in  one  way,  sometimes  in  another. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  DESPERATE   EFFORT  TO  GET  EVEN  WITH  A  GRASP- 
ING CORPORATION. 

IT  is  a  standing  complaint  of  our  public-spirited 
friends,  the  communists,  that  our  lines  of  rail- 
way, the  great  highways  of  the  nation,  are  con- 
structed, by  those  grasping  comorants,  the  capital- 
ists, with  sole  reference  to  profits,  that  is,  to  divi- 
dends, and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  ignoring  the  un- 
doubted right  of  the  people,  imported  or  otherwise, 
to  have  indefinite  transportation  in  all  directions 
provided  for  them  by  "  government." 

One  of  the  consequences  of  this  "  monumental 
robbery"  of  the  many  by  the  few  is  that  we  have  only 
a  bare  half-dozen  or  less  of  east-and-west  main  lines, 
which  absorb  to  themselves  the  trade  and  traffic  of  a 
continent.  Whether  they  do  so  with  profit  or  not, 
is  a  point  upon  which  the  authorities  differ.  That 
is,  the  communists  give  a  different  account  of  it 
from  that  rendered  to  and  remembered  by  the 
stockholders. 

328 


SE  TTING  A  PERFE  C  T  TRA  P.  329 

If  the  truth  were  known,  however,  it  would  prob- 
ably appear  that  the  fortunes  of  most  of  our  great 
railway  lines  would  not  be  badly  represented  by  a 
costly  section  of  one  of  them  which  penetrates, 
with  many  a  twist  and  climb,  the  rugged  ranges  of 
the  Appalachian  chain. 

After  winding  among  great  knobby  hills  of  tree- 
less stone,  shooting  through  tunnels  and  burrow- 
ing in  cuts  which  must  have  troubled  the  very 
souls  of  the  constructing  engineers,  the  track  at  last 
enters  upon  a  steep  down-grade,  with  a  gorge  of 
varying  depth  on  one  side,  and  a  mountain  round 
which  it  winds,  on  the  other,  and  at  the  bottom  of 
this  grade  there  hardly  seems  a  level,  so  quickly 
does  the  opposite  ascent  begin,  with  a  steeper  grade 
than  ever.  It  is  hard  to  tell  which  is  the  more 
difficult  and  perilous  to  train  or  corporation,  the 
down-grade  of  the  expense  account  or  the  up-grade 
towards  the  height  of  an  honest  dividend. 

Be  that  as.  it  may,  the  train  on  which  Mr.  Brown 
and  his  party  left  the  great  city  reached  that  very 
section  a  little  while  after  darkness  closed  in  upon 
the  varied  experiences  of  their  first  day's  travel. 
The  snow  lay  deeply  enough  among  the  mountain 
gorges,  for  it  was  yet  March.  Dr.  Milyng  intended 
to  reach  the  early  summer  which  April  would  bring 
with  it  to  the  warm  valleys  and  plains  eastward  of 
the  Golden  Heart,  but  winter  had  to  be  traversed 
at  the  outset. 


33O  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

A  dark  and  cloudy  night,  but  not  stormy,  and  as 
safe  for  a  railway  train  as  the  peacefulest  Indian 
summer  day. 

Perfectly  safe,  for  no  road  on  the  continent  was 
better  managed,  or  could  boast  of  having  fewer  acci- 
dents. So  long  as  steel  and  rock  and  sound 
timber  could  be  trusted,  with  skill,  experience  and 
fidelity— 

But  what  about  human  malice,  greed,  cruelty, 
callous  indifference  to  the  pain  and  loss  of  others? 
Are  there  no  devils  on  the  earth?  Of  course  not, 
nor  anywhere  else,  for  is  it  not  now  settled  that 
hell  is  a  myth  ! 

He  was  not  a  devil,  therefore,  but  a  mere  human 
being,  if  anybody  will  kindly  tell  us  what  that  is, 
and  he  was  standing,  in  the  dense  gloom,  just  a 
little  beyond  the  terminus  of  the  down-grade. 
Those  familiar  with  the  spot  will  remember  that 
the  curve  is  a  trifle  sharp,  but  that  the  bank  on  the 
right  is  not  more  than  thirty  feet  in  height,  while 
the  ravine  to  the  left  is  barely  twice  as  much. 
Nothing  about  it,  therefore,  so  far  as  mere  feet  and 
inches  are  concerned,  that  is  very  startling. 

Neither  was  there  about  the  man,  but  some  re- 
cent "  repair  train"  had  unloaded  a  couple  of  new 
rails  at  the  side  of  the  track,  and  the  man  was  prying 
strongly  at  one  of  these  with  a  long  crowbar.  He 
moved  it  very  expeditiously,  too,  as  if  his  task  were 
one  which  called  for  haste. 


SE  TTING  A  PERFECT  TRAP.  3 3 1 

But  could  he  possibly  mean  to  leave  it  there — or 
had  he  only  paused  for  breath — there  across  the 
track,  at  that  treacherous  angle  with  the  permanent 
rails? 

A  train  coming,  down  from  the  east  would  surely 
be  thrown  from  the  track,  with  its  iron  head 
plunged  hard  against  the  rock,  and  then  what  would 
become  of  cars,  and  passengers? 

Down  the  gulf,  at  forty  miles  an  hour,  or  fifty, 
or  sixty,  for  who  knows  the  speed  of-  a  lightning 
express  at  the  end  of  a  down  run,  with  a  stiff  climb 
just  ahead  of  it? 

"  Reckon  that  '11  fix  'em/'  huskily  remarked  the 
crowbar  man,  as  he  took  a  step  backward.  "  Teach 
'em  a  lesson.  Other  people's  got  some  rights,  as 
well  as  they  have/' 

Other  words,  thick-voiced,  hot,  terrible  words, 
strangely  mingled  with  great  names,  sacred  and 
otherwise. 

If  there  were  a  hell,  and  any  devils  in  it,  one 
might  expect  to  hear  such  expressions  there  and 
from  them. 

What  a  good  thing  it  is  for  many  human  beings 
that  there  is  no  hereafter.  If  there  were,  and  they 
were  there  compelled  to  associate  with  their  kind, 
what  a  terrible  realization  of  our  most  lurid  dreams 
of  hell  would  shortly  result  from  that  association. 
Apd  somehow  orje  cannot  help  thinking,  at  times, 
that  the  absence  of  any  hereafter  leaves  the  work  of 


332  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

creation,  or  the  "  cosmos,"  if  you  will,  dreadfully  in- 
complete and  unsatisfactory. 

This  man  must  have  been  a  very  complete  phil- 
osopher, for,  after  setting  his  ingenious  trap  for 
that  train,  he  calmly  descended  into  the  hollow, 
clambered  up  a  few  yards  on  the  opposite  side,  and 
sat  down  to  await  results. 

Foolish  fellow,  to  have  taken  so  much  unnecessary 
pains,  when  sheer  chance  had  been  providing  a  surer 
trap,  a  more  certain  and  terrible  destruction,  for  that 
doomed  express  train,  than  could  have  been  pro- 
vided by  a  score  of  such  as  he. 

He  did  not  know  it. 

How  should  he  have  known  the  secrets  of  the 
rolling-mill  and  the  forge,  and  the  hidden  things  of 
all  the  iron  bars  and  their  weldings? 

An  hour  before,  another  train  of  cars  had  passed 
that  spot.  A  long,  dark,  heavy-looking  train,  laden 
with  coal  and  with  pig-iron,  and  drawn  by  two  huge, 
hoarse- throated  "  camel-back"  engines,  whose  utmost 
strength  had  barely  sufficed  to  haul  their  enormous 
following  up  the  long,  steep  grade  beyond.  They 
had  done  so,  however,  and  had  screamed  with  steamy 
satisfaction  when  they  reached  the  summit,  miles 
away,  and  pulled  their  grimy  column  of  burdened 
trucks  nearly  out  upon  the  side-track  where  they 
were  to  rest  until  the  express  train  should  pass 
them. 

There  was  something  almost  human  about  it — • 


SE  TTING  A  PERFE  C  T  TRA  P.  333 

the  locomotives  gave  their  shout  of  triumph  too 
soon. 

Laborers  and  brakemen  had  sprung  to  the  ground, 
after  the  brakes  were  thrown  open  again,  for  that 
was  a  lunch  station  for  them,  as  well  as  for  the  en- 
gines, but  the  last  cars  had  not  passed  the  switch 
when,  for  some  reason,  the  locomotives  were 
"  backed"  a  little. 

Only  one  of  the  innumerable  retrogrades  incident 
to  such  work,  but  when  the  forward  start  was  given 
again,  the  coupling  broke  between  the  seventh  and 
eighth  cars,  back,  and  the  great  mass  of  the  train 
was  free  of  its  iron  yoke. 

Safe,  so  long  as  it  was  on  the  track. 

Well,  it  could  not  wander  much,  but  it  could 
slip  along  the  rails,  with  momentarily  increasing 
speed,  and  gathering  in  its  solid  bulk  the  resistless, 
measureless  power  of  inertia. 

That  is  one  of  the  powers  which  the  philosophers 
have  exquisitely  explained  to  us.  They  have 
traced  it  up  to — yes,  up,  and  up,  and  up,  to  the 
place  where  they  could  not  trace  it  any  further, 
and  there  they  set  up  a  triumphal  tombstone  and 
wrote  "  Nature"  across  the  face  of  it.  What  more 
would  you  have,  if  you  are  a  reasonable  man,  and 
do  not  believe  in  a  hereafter? 

But  those  awful  car-loads  of  coal  and  iron,  turned 
so  suddenly  into  a  "  wild  train,"  with  that  gather- 
ing power  within  them,  and  that  sharp  yell  of 


334  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

human  astonishment  and  fear  arising  behind  them. 

One  man  there  had  been,  a  brakeman,  who  sprang 
after  his  escaping  charge,  and  followed  it  gallantly, 
in  a  desperate  determination  to  get  on  board  and 
apply  the  brakes,  but  he  failed  in  his  leap,  and  was 
now  lying  senseless  on  the  track,  well  off  in  having 
nothing  worse  than  a  heavy  fall  and  a  broken  arm. 

Had  he  succeeded,  not  ten  such  men  could  have 
brought  the  runaway  to  a  stand-still  on  that  down- 
grade, and  he  would  have  shared  the  fate  of  the 
train.  Considering  the  size  of  his  family,  it  was  well 
he  did  not  succeed  in  boarding  that  rear  car. 

Faster,  now,  and  with  every  second  faster,  on 
plunged  the  long  line  of  cars,  that  had  neither  man 
nor  any  trained  servant  of  man  to  drive  them  or 
restrain  them. 

The  rails  beneath  them  would  do  Well  enough 
for  a  guide,  but  the  white-faced  men  at  the  station 
knew  only  too  well  what  that  guiding  would  be. 
There  were  those  among  the  latter — strong  men, 
too,  with  horny  hands  and  weatherbeaten  faces — 
who  sat  down  and  covered  the  one  with  the  other, 
and  did  but  groan  when  spoken  to.  One  did  say  : 

"Women!  Children!  Men!  Ground  to  pieces ! 
O  it  makes  me  feel  faint !" 

And  then  there  was  something  said  about  a 
wreck,  and  sending  for  surgeons,  but  nobody  seemed 
to  know  exactly  what  to  do. 

Faster  and   faster,   on  dashed  the  "  wild  train," 


SE TTING  A  PERFECT  TRAP.  335 

attaining  a  speed  rarely  given  or  permitted  to  one 
of  its  kind  with  steam  in  control  of  it.  A  compe- 
tent mathematician  could  easily  have  calculated  that, 
with  a  given  acceleration,  and  the  speed  of  the  express 
train  approaching  from  the  opposite  direction  being 
also  known,  the  meeting  of  the  two  would  take  place 
precisely  in  so  many  minutes  and  at  such  an  exact 
point.  He  could  therefore  have  assured  the  man  with 
the  crowbar  how  entirely  he  had  thrown  away  the  free 
labor  he  had  expended  in  slanting  'that  rail  across 
the  track  and  assuming  the  responsibility  of  the 
coming  crash. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ONE  OF  THE  SERMONS  THERE  ARE  IN  IRON  BARS. 

HHHAT  had  been  a  very  interesting  day  on  board 
-L  the  western-bound  express  train.  At  least  to 
a  part  of  the  inmates  of  one  of  its  palace  cars. 
One  of  the  first  and  most  interesting  features  of 
their  position  was  that  before  noon  they  found 
themselves  in  sole  possession  of  the  car,  which  was 
about  as  good  as  it  could  be.  There  is  nothing  else 
in  a  republic  half  so  princely  as  having  a  whole  car 
to  yourself. 

Then  there  was  a  good  deal  to  be  seen  from  the 
windows,  and  all  the  eyes  on  board  worked  at  that 
until  they  were  weary  of  it  and  did  not  care  what 
might  be  the  name  of  the  next  town  or  of  the  river 
they  had  just  crossed. 

But  the  older  portion  of  Mr.  Brown's  party 
found  something  to  think  of,  after  awhile,  in  the 
conduct  and  bearing  of  their  juniors. 

They  had  rfever  before  known  Fred  Heron  to 

336 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  337 

come  out  quite  so  strong  as  he  was  now  doing,  so 
full  of  wit,  anecdote,  information,  the  very  soul  of 
the  party,  and  yet,  withal,  so  very  unobtrusive,  so 
politely  considerate  of  others. 

"  He  will  be  a  treasure  at  this  rate,"  soliloquized 
Mr.  Brown. 

"  He  puzzles  me  more  than  ever,"  was  the  thought 
of  Mrs.  Boyce. 

Dr.  Milyng  regarded  him  with  a  sort  of  pride,  as 
much  as  to  say  : 

"  That's  another  of  my  discoveries.  You'd  never 
have  owned  that  claim  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me." 

And  no  more  they  would.  But  Mr.  Augustus 
Heron  was  not  "  panning  out"  as  well  as  his  brother, 
just  then.  He  was  almost  as  much  disposed  to  be 
silent  as  was  Carrie  Dillaye  herself,  and  yet  he  had 
left  no  angry,  unreconciled  father  behind  him.  Could 
he  have  been  dwelling,  untimely,  upon  the  sad  fact 
that  he  was  an  orphan,  or  upon  the  other  fact  that 
he  was  a  self-invited  member  of  that  travelling 
party  ? 

Mabel  Varick  appeared  most  amiably  in  the 
character  of  a  young  lady  willing  to  be  amused, 
which  was  all  that  could  be  reasonably  asked  of  her.' 

There  were  other  interesting  things  to  come,  how- 
ever, one  of  which  arrived  in  the  shape  of  a  late  din- 
ner, served  on  board,  and  after  that  the  gentlemen 
retired  to  the  smoking-room  and  left  the  ladies  for 
awhile  to  their  own  devices. 


338  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

They  had  not  a  great  many,  but  then  they  had 
their  tongues,  and  that  was  a  good  deal,  for  they 
had  a  plenty  to  talk  about. 

"Carrie,  my  dear,"  at  last  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  "what 
is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  must  not  let  anything 
you  have  left  behind  you  prey  upon  your  spirits." 

Carrie's  reply  seemed  in  a  manner  to  burst  from 
her. 

"It  is  not  what  I  have  left  behind  me,  Mrs. 
Boyce,  it  is  what  I  have  brought  with  me." 

"  Brought  with  you  ?  Why,  my  dear  child,  what 
can  that  be?" 

"My  secrets!" 

And  here  Carrie  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"Your  secrets,  Carrie,  dear,"  exclaimed  Mabel 
Varick,  "  have  you  any  that  we  cannot  help  you 
keep?  Don't  tell  us  anything  we  ought  not  to 
know — " 

"  I  must  tell  you  !  I  feel  that  I  ought  never  to 
have  any.  You  and  Uncle  Daniel  and  Mrs.  Boyce 
are  all  so  good  to  me !" 

Mabel  and  the  widow  stared  at  one  another  as 
much  as  to  say  :  "  What  can  it  all  mean/*  but  they 
waited  patiently,  considering  the  circumstances,  for 
the  termination  of  what  became  a  long  and  somewhat 
awkward  silence.  The  darkness  of  the  cloudy  March 
day  was  deepening,  and  the  pause  was  prolonged  by 
the  entrance  of  the  train  porter  to  light  the  lamps. 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  339 

They  were  not  sorry,  any  of  them,  to  have  the 
stern  and  gloomy  scenery  of  the  mountains  shut 
out  for  awhile. 

When  he  had  finished  his  duties  and  they  were 
once  more  alone,  Carrie  suddenly  began  again  with  : 

"  You  know  my  terrible  adventure  on  the  Island  ?" 

No  answer  seemed  to  be  called  for. 

"  Well,  that  is  one  of  my  secrets.  I  do  not 
mean  only  that  it  is  a  dark  spot  in  my  life  which  I 
must  forever  conceal  from  the  world — from  every- 
body but  those  who  know  it  now — but  there  is 
something  darker  than  that  about  it." 

"  Why,  Carrie,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Boyce. 

"  Yes — O  so  dark  J  I  refused  to  let  myself  think 
about  it,  at  first.  It  was  not  my  father — " 

"  Not  your  father  !" 

"  No,  it  was  my  step-mother." 

"  Your  step-mother  ?  Why,  Carrie  Dillaye,  what 
can  you  mean  ?  Are  you  going  crazy?"  asked 
Mabel,  with  wide  open  eyes. 

"Mean?  Why,  I  mean  it  was  all  a  trap.  A 
plan  of  hers.  She  meant  it  all,  and  I  do  not  know, 
to  this  day,  precisely  how  she  managed  it." 

"Do  you  mean  she  sent  you  to  the  Island?" 

"  No,  she  could  not  have  thought  so  far  ahead 
as  that.  But  she  intended  I  should  go  wile!  and 
disgrace  myself,  so  that  my  father  and  my  friends 
should  cast  me  off.  She  has  always  hated  me.  She 
knew  I  was  proud.  She  believed  if  I  once  went 


34O  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

away  in  such  a  manner  she  would  never  hear  of  me 
again.  She  was  right,  too.  I  should  never  have 
shown  my  face  again  to  any  one  who  had  known  me 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  manner  in.  which  I  was 
rescued.  I  thank  God  for  that.  Next  to  Him,  I 
thank  Fred  Heron,  and  my  good,  kind  uncle.  And 
then,  to  think  I  could  ever  be  so  base,  so  unkind, 
so  ungrateful  to  him!" 

"  Ungrateful  to  Mr.  Heron,  or  to  Uncle  Daniel?" 
again  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mabel,  while  Mrs. 
Boyce  stared  through  the  window  into  the  now  im* 
penetrable  gloom  beyond. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  darkness  gathering 
about  that  "  lightning  express"  train,  as  it  plunged 
along  the  rails  on  that  down-grade  around  the 
mountain. 

It  is  the  way  of  human  lives.  ^Not  a  man  or  a  train 
of  us  all,  knows  how  far  in  the  future  a  fellow  with 
a  crowbar  may  have  been  getting  things  ready  for 
our  coming. 

Carrie  turned  her  face  full  upon  Mabel,  a  flushed 
face,  into  whose  humility  of  self-accusation  that 
question  seemed  to  have  brought  a  new  and  hardly 
so  meek  an  element,  and  her  lips  were  parted  as  if 
the  remaining  secret  were  about  to  come  out,  but 
just  then  the  door  of  the  smoking-room  opened, 
and  Mr.  Brown  strode  through  it,  followed  by  the 
three  other  gentlemen. 

They  could  hardly  have  finished  their  cigars  so 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  341 

soon,  but  there  had  been  a  mild  breaking  of  bottled 
secrets  among  them  also. 

Not  so  very  many  minutes  earlier,  Dr.  Milynghad 
turned  upon  Fred,  with: 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  my  boy.  The  mines  have  got 
hold  of  you.  So  they  have  of  me.  I  was  never 
in  such  tremendous  spirits  in  all  my  life,  and  yet  I 
know  there's  something  coming." 

"The  mines?"  exclaimed  Fred.  "Well,  I  have 
been  in  pretty  good  spirits,  to-day,  and  the  mines 
have  something  to  do  with  it,  but  not  all.  It's  a 
family  matter,  and  I've  had  no  chance  even  to  talk 
with  Gus  about  it,  but  you  are  such  good  friends  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  all.  It's  this — my  only  sister 
is  now  living  at  the  west — and  just  before  leaving 
the  city,  I  received  a  letter  from  her,  announcing 
her  marriage — " 

"  Done  well,  then  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Bessie  married!"  exclaimed  Augustus. 

"Married  a  gentleman  named  Gresham,"  con- 
tinued Fred,  "  for  whom  she  has  been  keeping  house. 
A  man  of  high  character  and  some  wealth,  a 
widower,  and  so  she  has  a  home  secured  to  her? 
whatever  may  become  of  me." 

"  Or  me,"  remarked  Augustus,  and  he  too  seemed 
affected  to  a  greater  degree  of  cheerfulness  by  the 
unexpected  news. 

But  Mr.  Brown  arose,  saying  : 

"I  congratulate  you,  heartily,  Mr.  Heron.    .1  can 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

easily  understand  your  gratification  over  your  sis- 
ter's happiness.  I  think  the  ladies  would  be  par- 
ticularly interested.  Come,  let's  be  fair  and  give 
them  the  news.  You  and  your  brother  can  talk 
about  it  afterwards." 

Neither  of  the  young  men  could  object,  and  it 
may  be  they  were  more  than  willing,  while  the  doc- 
tor followed,  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  very  man- 
ner of  their  coming  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
ladies,  for  Mr.  Brown's  benevolent  face  was  full  of 
news-bearing  eagerness.  Strange  that  Carrie  Dil- 
laye  should  turn  pale  at  the  sight  of  it. 

"A  wedding,"  he  exclaimed.  "A  wedding  in 
the  Heron  family!" 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Daniel,"  gasped  Carrie. 

What  would  next  have  been  said  it  were  some- 
what difficult  to  guess,  but  at  that  moment  the  air 
was  cleft  by  an  exceedingly  shrill  whistle,  and  they 
were  aware  that  the  brakes  were  being  applied  with 
an  energy  which  spoke  plainly  enough  of  some 
peril  close  at  hand. 

If  they  could  but  have  known  what  a  peril  it  was! 

The  scream  of  the  engine  was  repeated,  with 
what  seemed  a  tremor  of  metallic  fear  in  it,  and 
the  presence  of  danger  must  have  been  palpably 
felt  in  that  car,  for  neither  man  nor  woman  uttered 
a  word. 

And  yet  the  peril  had  passed,  almost  at  the  mo- 
ment of  its  discovery,  so  swiftly  had  the  train 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  343 

dashed  on,  in  spite  of  all  the  power  of  the  brakes 
and  all  the  efforts  of  the  engineer. 

The  man  with  the  crowbar  had  been  sitting  in 
the  snow,  on  the  steep  side  of  the  narrow  ravine, 
opposite  his  trap,  a  few  moments  before  that,  and 
he  had  ceased  even  to  mutter  profane  words  to 
himself  as  he  peered  into  the  darkness.  He  knew 
it  was  nearly  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  express 
train  from  the  east.  It  may  be,  too,  that  his  nerves, 
and  consequently  his  senses,  were  aroused  to  an  un- 
usual pitch  of  excitement  and  keenness.  At  all 
events  they  were  not  so  completely  absorbed  by 
the  awful  watch  he  was  keeping  that  they  failed  to 
catch  the  warning  roar  of  the  "  wild  train"  corning 
from  the  west. 

He  must  have  been  a  railway  man,  perhaps  a  dis- 
charged employee,  for  he  instantly  understood  the 
situation  well  enough  to  remark: 

"Now  won't  there  be  a  crash !  I  wonder  which 
one'll  get  here  first." 

He  had  but  a  moment  left  for  any  speculation, 
and  what  was  now  the  foremost  car  of  the  wild 
train  was  not  armed,  as  a  locomotive  would  have 
been,  with  a  "  cow-catcher"  and  a  consequent  hope 
of  thrusting  aside  the  slanting  rail.  The  wheels 
of  its  truck  caught  fairly  on  the  rigid  steel  of  the 
obstruction,  only  to  be  thereby  given  a  direction 
opposite  from  that  intended  by  the  man  with  the 
crowbar  for  those  of  the  express  train. 


344  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Over  the  sleepers  that  first  car  bounded  to  the 
right,  with  a  great  leap,  and  if  all  those  behind  it 
had  been  so  many  sheep  they  could  not  more 
closely  and  blindly  have  followed  the  plunge  of 
their  leader  down  into  the  ravine,  and  grand  was 
the  rattle  and  crash  they  made  in  doing  so. 

The  rail,  its  work  assure'd,  was  buffeted  from  one 
position  to  another,  till  it  lay  at  right  angles  across 
the  track,  with  six  feet  of  its  length  extending  over 
the  edge.  If  any  one  can  tell  how  the  fragments  of 
a  wreck  get  into  the  places  and  positions  they  are 
found  in  he  can  do  more  than  anybody  else  can. 
But  the  last  car  of  the  series  was  fairly  bounced  into 
the  air  by  the  force  of  the  jerk  which  snatched  it 
from  the  rails,  and  it  came  down,  with  its  tons  and 
tons  of  weight,  on  the  projecting  end  of  that  fatal 
bar  of  steel. 

A  big  bar  and  a  heavy  one,  but  the  fillip  it  re- 
ceived was  powerful  in  a  full  proportion,  and  it  was 
spun  into  the  air  as  boys  at  play  will  spin  a  chip  of 
pine-wood.  Had  the  blow  been  harder  the  rail 
would  have  been  hurled  farther,  but,  as  it  was,  it 
was  projected  in  a  great  arc,  clean  across  the  little 
ravine.  There  it  was  found  by  the  wondering 
track-menders  and  wrecking-train  hands,  the  next 
morning,  and  under  it  was  the  body  of  a  man  with ' 
a  long  crowbar  convulsively  grasped  in  his  right 
hand. 

"It  struck  him  in  front,"  they  said.     "Nobody 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  345 

will  ever  know  who  he  was  by  looking  at  his 
face." 

Perhaps  there  were  those,  in  the  place  where  he 
was  gone,  who  would  be  able  to  recognize  him  by 
other  tokens  than  any  his  face  had  worn  in  life. 
That  is,  the  face  of  his  human  body. 

But  the  exploit  of  that  last  car  of  the  wild  train 
had  cleared  the  track  of  all  obstruction,  and  the  rails 
were  not  so  badly  pried  out  of  place  but  what  a 
chance  remained  for  wheels  to  keep  upon  them. 

Barely  that  and  nothing  more,  and  the  very  speed 
of  the  express  train  was  its  safety.  The  engineer 
had  heard  the  crash  of  that  great  wreck,  if  he  had 
not  at  all  understood  it,  and  he  had  whistled  "down 
brakes,"  but  his  entire  train  had  passed  the  point 
of  danger  before  any  great  degree  of  "  slowing"  hac" 
been  accomplished. 

A  full  stop  was  speedily  made,  and  a  hurried  in- 
vestigation revealed  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
try  and  reach  the  station  on  the  summit.  Some- 
thing like  an  explanation  would  probably  be  ob- 
tained there. 

The  advance  was  cautious,  for  there  was  no  as- 
surance of  finding  the  track  on  the  up-grade  clear, 
nor  was  the  anxiety  of  the  conductor  and  his 
passengers  relieved  until  they  heard  the  great 
shout  with  which  their  arrival  was  greeted  at  the 
station.  * 

"It  seems  'most  like  seem    dead -folks  come  to 


346  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

life,"  exclaimed  the  man  who  had  appeared  to  feel 
the  worst  about  it.  "I'm  goin'  to  meetin'  next 
Sunday.  You  see  'f  I  don't." 

And  now  even  the  lady  passengers  were  made 
aware  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  peril  which 
.had  been  so  near  them,  and  Uncle  Daniel,  after  the 
shudder  with  which  he  told  them  of  it,  felt  it  im- 
peratively necessary  for  him  to  give  each  of  his 
nieces  a  hug  and  a  kiss. 

"  It  was  God's  providence,"  he  said,  although  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  trap  which  had  been  set  by 
the  crowbar  man,  or  of  the  precise  manner  in  which 
it  had  been  sprung  by  the  wild  train. 

The  young  men  looked  at  one  another  and  at 
their  lady  friends,  but  seemed  unable  to  think  of 
anything  worth  saying,  under  the  circumstances. 

Fred  Heron  had  a  thought  of  his  own  in  his 
head,  however,  and  it  led  him  to  look  up  the 
broken  coupling  which  had  set  free  all  those  coal 
and  iron  cars,  and  Dr.  Milyng  went  with  him. 

There  was  the  flaw,  in  the  centre  of  the  bent  bar, 
just  where  it  had  been  ever  since  the  liquid  metal 
poured  from  the  great  crucible  at  the  smelting 
works.  No  amount  of  subsequent  drawing  and 
forging  had  sufficed  to  remove  that  original  defect, 
hidden  as  it  was  by  the  strong  shell  of  iron  around  it. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?"  he  said  to  Dr.  Milyng. 
"That  coupling  held  to  draw  a  good  many  trains. 
It  held  this  one  all  the  way  up  that  grade,  but  it 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  347 

broke  just  exactly  in  time.  How  do  you  account 
for  that?" 

"  S'pose  it  had  broke  too  soon,  or  had  held  on  a 
little  too  long?"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  dreamy 
look  in  his  keen  black  eyes. 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  of  what  would  have  hap- 
pened to  our  party." 

"But  that's  the  way  it  turns  out,  now  and  then. 
Trains  do  get  wrecked,  and  their  passengers  do  get 
smashed  up.  Ships  go  down  at  sea,  too,  with  all 
on  board.  What  about  Providence,  then?" 

"  Well,  I've  been  face  to  face  with  death  a  good 
many  times.  So  have  you.  I  never  found  anything 
in  the  looks  of  it  that  warranted  me  in  suspecting 
God  of  a  failure,  in  case  He  let  it  come  to  me. 
What's  true  of  one  man  is  true  of  a  hundred,  or  a 
hundred  thousand.  I'm  not  half  so  much  troubled 
about  them  as  I  am  about  this  flaw  in  the  coupling. 
The  preparations  for  that  flaw  were  made  when  the 
ore  was  packed  away  in  the  rocks  of  Pennsylvania, 
millions  of  years  ago." 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  doctor.  "  When  we 
get  into  the  gold  country  I'll  show  you  some  points 
that  '11  beat  that.  But  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
one  thing." 

"What's  that,  doctor?" 

"  Death's  nothing  at  all,  and  God  knows  it.  Our 
mistake  is  that  we  think  He  hasn't  found  out  yet, 
what  a  dreadful  affair  it  is.  I  tell  you  what,  Fred, 


348 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


I  ain't  any  too  good,  more's  the  pity,  and  I'm  afraid 
I  never  shall  be.  Piety  doesn't  seem  to  thrive 
among  the  gold  diggings.  But  if  there's  anything 
I'm  sick  of,  it's  hearing  one  kind  of  fool  and  another 
making  apologies  for  God.  He  just  don't  need 
any." 

"  Reckon  you've  about  hit  it,"  replied  Fred, 
thoughtfully,  u  but  where  did  you  get  your 
theology?" 

"Not  a  grain  of  it  in  me,"  stoutly  exclaimed  the 
doctor,  "but,  if  a  mountain  can't  preach  a  sermon, 
why  then  an  alkali  plain  can.  That's  all.  It  ain't 
quite  all,  neither.  I  read  more'n  you'd  think,  and 
I  tell  you  that  when  science  climbs  and  climbs  and 
climbs,  till  it  reaches  the  level  of  a  Digger  Indian, 
about  some  things,  it  had  just  better  let  the  Diggers 
do  its  loose  whooping  and  yelling  for  it.  That's 
what  I  say." 

And  Fred  dropped  the  broken  coupling,  and  he 
and  the  doctor  went  back  to  the  car  to  ask  Mr. 
Daniel  Brown  what  he  thought  about  it. 

The  train  was  quickly  in  motion,  and  before  long 
the  porters  began  to  put  the  sleeping  apparatus  in 
order,  so  that  the  discussion  had  to  be  postponed, 
for  the  greater  part,  till  the  following  day. 

It  lasted,  with  kindred  topics,  until  they  reached 
Pittsburg,  and  it  served  at  least  one  purpose. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  state  of  Carrie 
Dillaye's  mind  and  feelings,  she  made  no  further 


THE  SPRINGING  OF  THE  TRAP.  349 

reference  to  the  subject  of  her  "secrets,"  if  any  re- 
mained untold. 

Neither  her  cousin  nor  Mrs.  Boyce  saw  fit,  what- 
ever may  haVe  been  their  respective  reasons,  to  ask 
her  any  questions  about  it. 

At  Pittsburg  Fred  managed  to  write  and  post  a 
hurried  letter  to  Bessie,  with  his  good  wishes  and 
congratulations,  and  with  the  news  that  he  and  his 
friends  were  on  their  way  to  the  gold  regions. 

"That'll  startle  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  "as 
much  as  her  marriage  did  me.  And  won't  Gus  get 
some  letters,  after  he  reaches  the  city?  I'd  almost 
like  to  read  'em." 

They  would  be  good  letters,  no  doubt ;  the  best 
kind  ;  but  it  seemed  a  difficult  thing  for  Mr.  Augus- 
tus Heron  to  break  away  from  that  party.  There 
was  a  serious  flaw  in  his  "  coupling,"  somewhere, 
however,  and  he  had  to  go. 

And  after  he  had  gone,  and  the  train  moved  on, 
Carrie  Dillaye  appeared,  strangely  enough,  to  re- 
cover her  spirits  and  light-heartedness,  as  if  her 
handsome  friend  had  himself  been  the  incubus  which 
had  weighed  them  down. 

And  Mrs.  Boyce  thought  and  thought  about  it, 
and  so  did  Mabel  Varick,  without  arriving  at  a  con- 
clusion of  any  kind. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A  VERY  LONG  JOURNEY,  AND  WHAT  WAS  FOUND  AT 
THE  END  OF  IT. 

APRIL,  in  the  latitude  of  Dr.  Milyng's  great 
discovery,  was  the  counterpart  of  June  in  less 
favored  regions  at  the  north,  and  mountain  and 
plain  were  in  all  their  glory  when  the  mining- 
picnic  party  rested  from  the  fatigue  of  their  jour- 
ney, under  the  oaks  and  pines  near  the  mouth  of 
the  narrow  ravine.  The  "  wagoning"  part  of  their 
trip  had  not  been  nearly  so  severe  as  the  ladies  had  ex- 
pected, rapidly  as  Dr.  Milyng  had  pressed  his  teams, 
and  every  hour  had  brought  before  their  eyes  fresh 
wonders  of  unrivalled  scenery. 

Again  and  again  did  Mrs.  Boyce  thank  Mr. 
Brown  for  permitting  her  to  be  one  of  the  party, 
and  just  so  often  was  he  able  to  assure  her,  truth- 
fully, that  he  and  not  she  was  the  obliged  individual. 

For  the  remarkable  capacities  of  the  widow  for 
all  sorts  of  management  came  out  with  greater  and 
greater  strength  as  successive  exigencies  called 

350 


WHA  T  WE  CAME  FOX.  35  x 

upon  her  for  their  exhibition.  It  was  a  grand  piece 
of  education  for  Mabel  Varick  that  she  found  her- 
self compelled  to  strive  for  the  pre-eminence  as  a 
housekeeper,  or  rather  as  a  camp-keeper,  with  so 
complete  a  mistress  of  all  the  arts  thereof.  They 
could  but  respect  one  another,  those  two  women, 
while  Mr.  Brown  looked  on  in  an  admiration  which 
but  feebly  comprehended  the  facts  of  the  case,  and 
he  and  his  friends  got  the  benefit  of  it  all. 

If  Carrie  Dillaye  were  acting  as  an  ally  of  either 
party,  open  or  secret,  she  kept  her  own  counsels, 
and  received  from  the  gentlemen  all  the  attentions 
the  other  ladies  gave  themselves  no  time  for.  She 
seemed  to  have  become,  in  the  course  of  the  trip,  es- 
pecially well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Frederick  Heron, 
and  Mrs.  Boyce  went  so  far  as  to  remark  to  Mabel : 

"  That  looks  a  good  deal  more  like  poetical  jus- 
tice, but  what  would  Augustus  say,  if  he  were 
here  ?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  Fred— Mr.  Heron— would  do 
anything  in  his  brother's  absence " 

"That  he  would  not  if  Augustus  were  here? 
Certainly  not,  but  I'm  not  so  sure  as  I'd  like  to  be 
about  everybody  else.  There  are  some  things  I  do 
not  understand  at  all." 

Mabel  was  silent.  If  she  had  anything  on  her 
mind,  just  then,  it  was  probably  not  of  a  kind 
which  she  felt  impelled  to  confide  to  the  fair  widow. 
Nor  did  Dr.  Milyng  tell  her,  as  he  might  have 


352  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

done,  that  Mr.  Brown  had  said  to  him,  that  very 
day : 

"  You  are  right  about  Fred.  If  they  were  my 
daughters  instead  of  my  nieces,  I  could  not  more 
heartily  commend  the  respectful  reserve  of  his  be- 
havior. I  believe  him  to  be  a  most  honorable 
young  man." 

"  Sure  as  you  live,"  returned  the  doctor,  "  but,  I 
tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Brown,  this  expedition  will 
leave  him  anything  but  a  poor  man,  and  if  I  was 
a  girl — " 

"Well,  you  don't  look  much  like  one,  but  what  if 
you  were  a  girl?" 

"  I'd  think  twice  before  I  turned  up  my  nose  at 
Fred  Heron,  for  fear  I  might  go  further  and  fare 
worse." 

"  But,  doctor—" 

"  I  know,  they  kind  o'  look  down  on  him.  Per- 
haps they  look  down  on  a  man  like  me,  but  I'd 
have  'em  know — " 

"  Come,  come,  doctor,  who's  been  looking  down 
on  you?  Why,  even  Mrs.  Boyce  is  enthusiastic 
about  you." 

The  color  mounted  richly  in  the  veteran's  bronzed 
face,  and  his  petulance  departed  like  a  summer  cloud, 
but  Mr.  Brown  smiled  most  benevolently,  later  in 
the  day,  at  beholding  the  cavalier-like  devotion 
with  which  his  friend  returned  from  scolding  a  team  of 
mules,  or  giving  orders  to  his  men,  to  do  the  honors 


IV  11 A  T  WE  CA  ME  FOR.  353 

of  the  journey  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Boyce's  ambling 
pony. 

All  that,  and  many  another  talk  and  incident, 
came  to  pass  by  the  way,  and  ever,  as  they  pushed 
forward,  the  mining  fever  warmed  in  their  veins, 
until,  at  last,  when  the  wagons  were  pulled  in  under 
the  trees  at  the  foot  of  the  ravine,  the  whole  party, 
with  one  accord,  followed  the  lead  of  the  impatient 
doctor,  as  he  dashed  forward,  leaving  to  the  teams- 
ters and  hired  miners  the  task  of  going  into  camp. 

It  was  not  a  long  ride,  but  hardly  a  word  was 
spoken  until  they  reined  in  their  several  steeds  at 
the  side  of  their  guide  in  front  of  the  hole  in  the 
ledge  where  he  had  thrown  down  his  worn-out  pick, 
so  many  long  months  before. 

Dr.  Milyng's  face  was  pale,  and  he  had  taken  off 
his  broad-brimmed  hat  to  wipe  the  perspiration 
from  his  forehead. 

"  There  it  is,"  he  said,  slowly,  in  a  deep  voice, 
husky  with  emotion.  "  There  it  is,  Mr.  Brown. 
It's  not  a  very  big  hole,  but  it  leads  to  the  treasury 
of  the  world." 

"There  it  is,"  repeated  Mr.  Brown. 

"  And  is  that  the  wonderful  mine?"  doubtfully 
inquired  Mabel. 

"That's  the  mine,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  the 
doctor.  u  That  brownish-white  stuff  lying  there 
is  almost  half-gold,  a  good  deal  of  it.  Some  of  it 
doesn't  belong  to  the  pay-streak.  That  hole  runs 


354  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

in,  horizontally,  for  thirty  feet,  and  the  pay-streak 
widens  all  the  way  in.  There's  plenty  of  water,  up 
among  the  rocks.  We  must  set  up  our  little  mill 
and  go  to  grinding.  I  can't  wait  till  the  stamps 
come." 

If  Mabel  and  Carrie  found  it  hard  to  believe  that 
they  had  come  so  far  to  see  no  more  than  that,  not 
so  with  Mrs.  Boyce,  nor  with  Mr.  Brown,  and  they 
were  about  to  say  as  much,  when  the  doctor,  who 
had  been  looking  curiously  in  all  directions,  sud- 
denly exclaimed : 

"  Not  a  bone  of  him !  I  declare,  the  old  rascal 
picked  himself  up  and  walked  off,  after  I'd  gone." 

"Some  friend  of  yours?"  said  Mabel. 

"And  a  good  friend  he  was.  My  old  mule, 
Oliver.  I  thought  he  was  so  broken  down  he'd 
never  get  up  again,  and  so  I  left  him.  But  I  might 
have  known  better.  There  never  was  such  another 
mule." 

"That's  the  one  you've  told  us  so  much  about? 
The  knowing  one?" 

"Knowing?  I  reckon  he  was.  I  only  wish  I 
could  have  him  back  again.  He'd  come,  too,  if  I 
called  him,  as  far  as  he  could  hear  me." 

Meantime,  Fred  Heron  had  been  prying  around, 
in  various  directions,  and  he  now  came  up  again  with: 

"  Well,  now  we've  seen  the  mine,  had  we  not  bet- 
ter go  back  to  camp  and  get  some  supper?" 

The    ladies   felt    themselves   reminded    of   their 


WHA  T  WE  CAME  FOR.  355 

duties,  and  very  promptly  assented,  and  Mr.  Brown 
wheeled  his  horse,  for  he  had  not  dismounted,  to 
accompany  them. 

"  Doctor,"  remarked  Fred,  after  they  had  ridden 
a  hundred  yards  or  so,  "  come  back  with  me,  a  mo- 
ment. There's  one  thing  more  I  want  to  ask.  We 
can  rejoin  the  rest  in  a  few  minutes." 

He  could  hardly  have  been  accused  of  excessive 
gallantry,  but  the  doctor  caught  from  him  a  some- 
what expressive  glance  which  prevented  any  demur 
on  his  part. 

"  What  is  it,  Fred  ?" 

"  This  way,  please — " 

And  he  led  him  straight  to  the  bowlder  behind 
which  the  three  ragged  miners  had  taken  their  last 
stand  after  "  jumping"  the  Golden  Heart. 

"  Were  those  bones  there  when  you  were  here 
before  ?" 

"  Picked  clean !  No,  indeed.  But  they're  white 
men's  bones.  Look  at  the  bits  of  cloth  and  shoe 
leather.  I  ain't  sure,  but  I  can  guess  at  'em.  Must 
have  followed  me,  like  they  and  their  kind  have 
done  before.  The  luck  of  the  mine  took  'em. 
Reckon  we're  safe  now." 

"  The  luck  of  the  mine,  doctor?  That  skull's  got 
a  bullet  hole  in  the  forehead,  and  that  other  one 
looks  as  if  a  club  had  broken  it  in.  Makes  me  think 
of  red  Indians,  more  than  of  any  other  kind  of 
luck." 


356  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

*'  That's  it.  Exactly.  But  did  you  ever  read 
history,  Fred  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  may  say  I  have." 

"  Well  then,  can  you  think  of  any  discovery,  worth 
having,  that  hasn't  got  the  bones  of  more  or  less 
dead  men  lying  around  the  mouth  of  it?  It  some- 
how works  that  way." 

"Why,  are  you  superstitious  about  it?" 

"Perhaps  I  am.  I'm  only  dealing  with  facts,  you 
know.  I  ain't  smart  enough  to  get  behind  them. 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  was." 

"Well,  doctor,  all  I've  got  to  say  about  the  luck 
of  the  mine  is  that  we  must  look  out  and  not  leave 
our  own  skeletons  here,  and  we  must  have  these 
carted  off  and  buried  before  the  ladies  see 
them." 

"  That's  so.  Don't  want  to  give  them  such  a 
scare  as  that  would  be.  Spoil  all  their  fun  for  them. 
That  was  the  work  of  the  Apaches.  They're  the 
only  redskins  here-away.  Glad  Crump  h#s  dressed 
them  out  for  us." 

"  They  may  come  back  again  ?" 

"Of  course  they  will,  but  a  party  like  ours  is 
another  thing  from  one  man,  or  even  three.  Es- 
pecially after  the  drubbings  they've  had.  Still,  I'm 
not  sorry  Crump  promised  to  send  an  escort  with 
the  machinery." 

Fred  smiled.  Even  with  reference  to  the  Apaches, 
the  doctor's  anxieties  went  out  to  his  mining  affairs 


WHA  T  WE  CA  ME  FOR.  357 

rather  than  to  the  picnic  party.  It  was  clear  enough 
what  was  the  state  of  his  affections. 

A  squad  of  miners  was  sent  up,  that  evening,  with 
directions  as  to  the  burial  of  the  three  skeletons, 
and  the  ladies  were  none  the  wiser. 

Six  teamsters,  eight  experienced  miners,  Mr. 
Brown,  the  doctor,  Fred  Heron — that  made  seven- 
teen well  armed  men,  in  case  of  necessity.  Enough 
for  all  the  work  which  could  as  yet  be  done,  with  spare 
hands  for  scouting  and  hunting  and  the  care  of  the 
animals.  None  too  many,  but  quite  all  that  would 
be  necessary  until  the  hole  in  the  ledge  should  be 
made  deeper  and  broader  and  the  heavier  machinery 
should  arrive.  Mr.  Brown  had  preferred  too  many, 
rather  than  too  few,  strong  as  had  been  the  peace- 
ful assurances  of  the  military  authorities. 

The  doctor  deemed  it  only  right  to  inform  his 
friend  concerning  the  bones  behind  the  bowlder, 
adding: 

"  Now  you  see,  Mr.  Brown,  we're  sure  nobody's 
been  able  to  enter  a  conflicting  claim  for  our  mine. 
The  Apaches  have  kept  our  title  good  for  us,  while 
I  was  gone." 

That  was  one  way  of  looking  at  it,  but  it  helped 
Mr.  Brown  to  a  clearer  view  of  the  nature  of  min- 
ing titles,  and  he  determined  to  add  as  much  as  he 
possibly  could  in  other  ways  to  the  neighborly  work 
of  the  Apaches. 

That  was  a  clear  and  beautifully  moonlit  evening, 


358  THE  HE  A  RT  OF  IT. 

and  nobody  felt  like  going  to  rest  very  early,  in 
spite  of  the  energetic  operations  already  planned 
for  the  morrow.  It  was-pleasanter,  after  supper,  to 
stroll  around  under  the  trees,  or  look  out  upon  the 
misty  plain,  or  away  to  the  dim  and  cloudlike  out- 
lines of  the  snow-crowned  Sierras. 

Somehow,  for  the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance, 
this  sort  of  feverish  wandering  brought  Fred  Heron 
and  Mabel  Varick  together,  by  themselves,  a  little 
distance  below  the  ravine,  and  although  she  said  to 
herself:  "I  suppose  he  would  prefer  Carrie,"  she 
said  aloud  to  him  : 

"Mr.  Heron,  is  it  not  beautiful?  I  would  not 
have  missed  it  for  anything." 

"  Nor  I,  Miss  Varick.  I  wish  I  could  see  how 
those  quartz  rocks,  up  yonder,  look  under  this 
moonlight." 

"  So  do  I.  Why  can  we  not  make  a  party  and 
go  up  there?" 

Fred  thought  of  the  grave-diggers,  now  at  their 
work,  and  the  three  skeletons,  and  he  replied : 

"  Splendid.  I  move  we  do  so,  some  evening. 
The  moon  will  be  full  in  a  night  or  so  more." 

" Could  we  not  go  to-night?" 

"  I  doubt  if  either  your  uncle  or  Dr.  Milyng 
would  approve  of  it.  Miss  Varick,  until  we  are  a 
little  better  acquainted  with  our  surroundings. 
There  are  no  police  here,  you  know,  and  the  lamps 
in  the  ravine  are  not  lighted." 

o 


WHA  T  WE  CAME  FOR.  359 

It  was  pleasantly,  indeed,  laughingly  said,  but 
Mabel  could  not  help  understanding  that  there 
was  more  of  a  reason  than  he  gave  for  his  polite 
refusal. 

Acquiescence  was  a  matter  of  course,  but  she 
was  almost  surprised  at  herself  to  find  how  much 
of  a  hurt  and  disappointed  feeling  she  had  about 
her  proposed  stroll. 

Whether  or  not  Fred  was  aware  of  it  all,  he  sud- 
denly changed  the  subject. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Dr.  Milyng  tolcl  us, 
Miss  Varick,  about  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
city?" 

"Yes,  are  they  near  us?" 

u  Across  the  prairie  yonder.  We  can  ride 
over  there,  some  day.  That  is,  if  we  find  all 
things  around  us  quiet  and  safe  for  such  expe- 
ditions." 

"Why,  is  there  any   doubt  of  it?" 

"  There  are  always  doubts  about  such  things  in  a 
region  like  this,  and  it  does  not  pay  to  run  any 
risks—"  And  then  he  added,  with  an  energy  that 
startled  his  companion : 

"  Risks?     No,  not  for  the  world  !" 

His  face  was  towards  her,  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
words  seemed  to  say  themselves,  but  Mabel  saw 
something  in  the  young  man's  eyes,  which  she  had 
never  noticed  there  before,  and  something  very  like 
it  was  quivering  around  his  mouth.  She  could  not 


360  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

analyze  it,  in  that  quick,  flashing,  moonlit  glance, 
but  the  presence  of  one  thing  in  that  uncontrolla- 
ble expression  could  not  be  mistaken. 

That  one  thing  was  suffering — was  pain. 

Just  then  she  heard  the  voice  of  her  uncle,  close 
at  hand,  saying : 

"  Mabel,  my  dear,  are  you  there?  Come,  now, 
I  think  you  have  had  enough  for  one  day.  Ah, 
Mr.  Heron?  A  grand  night,  is  it  not?  Come, 
Mabel." 

And  she  turned  away,  with  a  kinder  "  good-night" 
than  she  would  have  said  to  him,  but  for  seeing 
that  strange  ripple  on  the  usually  calm  surface  of 
his  life. 

Fred  Heron  stood  still,  for  a  moment,  on  the 
spot  where  she  had  left  him,  not  following  her  with 
so  much  as  a  glance  after  returning  her  word  of 
good  will.  But  now  the  lines  on  his  face  grew 
deeper  and  more  rigid,  with  that  wonderful  power 
of  expression  which  surely  follows  upon  long  re- 
straint— 

"  Glad  to  be  alone,"  he  muttered.  "  It  is  not  the 
old  agony,  thank  God !  I  thought,  once,  there 
could  be  nothing  worse  than  that,  and  I  ought  to 
know,  but  I  was  mistaken.  It  is  one  of  the  penal- 
ties of  a  wasted  life,  I  suppose.  I  don't  believe 
even  Esau  succeeded  in  selling  this  part  of  his 
birthright — the  power  to  suffer.  He  could  still 
cry,  with  a  great  and  exceeding  bitter  cry.  Poor 


WHA  T  WE  CAME  FOR.  361 

fellow ! — Well,  if  that  mine  is  what  it  seems  to  be, 
I'm  likely  to  have  a  good  deal  of  one  kind  of 
pottage  before  long.  Will  there  be  enough  of  it 
to  buy  me  what  I  want?  If  it  could  be  bought  at 
all  I  should  not  want  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WILL  YOU  COME  INTO  MY  PARLOR,  SAID  THE 
SPIDER  TO  THE  FLY. 

WHEN  Augustus  Heron  returned  to  the  great 
city  his  employers  expressed  themselves  well 
satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  he  had  per- 
formed their  western  errand  for  them.  Nor  were 
they  left  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  their  young 
friend  had  made  the  first  part  of  his  trip  as  a  mem- 
ber of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown's  party. 

They  were  glad  to  be  served  by  a  man  who  pos- 
sessed some  sort  of  social  position,  as  who  is  not? 

They  probably  did  not  feel  any  special  surprise, 
knowing  Fred's  relation  to  the  mining  company, 
but  it  was  not  many  days  before  an  event  occurred 
which  might  have  surprised  them,  somewhat,  if  they 
had  known  more  about  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

They  had  had  occasional  dealings  with  Mr.  Ste- 
phen Dillaye,  in  times  past,  and  of  late  he  had 
shown  some  slight  disposition  to  cultivate  them, 
but  they  hardly  knew  upon  which  of  his  business 

^62 


WALK  IN,  MR.  FL  Y.  363 

calls  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Augus, 
tus  Heron.  Nevertheless,  it  came  to  pass,  one 
morning,  that  the  senior  partner  said  to  Augustus : 

"  Here's  an  order  from  Dillaye  &  Co.  that  we 
can't  make  out.  You  know  him.  Just  step  around 
and  get  his  explanation." 

A  few  other,  and  more  minute  directions,  and 
Augustus  was  on  his  way,  with  a  momentarily 
growing  conviction  that  the  real  business  he  had  in 
hand  was  not  altogether  for  other  people. 

He  attended  to  the  mercantile  puzzle  first,  as  in 
duty  bound,  and  was  struck  by  the  extreme  cor- 
diality of  his  reception,  as  well  as  by  the  further 
fact  that  the  troublesome  order  was  very  nearly 
doubled  on  the  spot,  which  would  be  a  good  thing 
for  him  to  report  on  his  return. 

"  Must  say,  Mr.  Heron,"  remarked  Mr.  Dillaye, 
"  I  like  your  way  of  doing  business.  Quite  confirms 
what  I  have  heard  of  you." 

"Thank  you,  indeed — 

"And  I  have  a  reason  of  my  own  for  desiring  a 
further  acquaintance  with  you." 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,  Mr.  Dillaye." 

"You  will  excuse  me  from  saying  more,  now,  but 
if  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  see  me  at  my  house, 
some  evening,  at  your  convenience—" 

"  Entirely  at  your  own,  Mr.  Dillaye." 

"Then,  say  to-morrow  evening?  Shall  I  expect 
you  ?" 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"Will  eight  o'clock  do?     Or  earlier?     Or  later?" 
"  A  good  hour.     But  please  do  not  mention  it  to 
any  one." 

"  Certainly  not.  I  shall  be  happy  to  come." 
And  it  was  not  until  Augustus  had  crossed  the 
office  threshold  that  his  countenance  betrayed  the 
least  token  of  any  mental  perturbation.  He  must 
have  shared  fully  in  the  family  capacity  for  self-con- 
trol. That  is,  for  face-control,  which  is  not  always 
quite  the  same  thing.  The  report  he  made  on  his 
return  was  in  all  respects  satisfactory,  but,  if  he  con- 
sidered himself  under  a  promise  not  to  disclose  his 
invitation  to  anybody  he  must  have  adopted  the 
conventional  view  that  a  lawyer  is  nobody  when  a 
secret  is  in  question.  At  all  events  he  was  closeted 
with  Mr.  Allyn,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  away  from 
business,  that  afternoon. 

The  learned  and  vivacious  counsellor  was  a  diffi- 
cult man  to  take  by  surprise,  but  he  must  have  been 
captured  in  that  way  for  once,  to  judge  by  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  after  the  first  half-hour  of  his 
talk  with  Augustus  Heron.  He  had  permitted  his 
young  friend  to  do  most  of  the  talking,  up  to  that 
point. 

"  There's  one  thing  very  clear  to  me,  Mr.  Heron,'' 
he  now  remarked,  "  you  must  go  and  hear  what  they 
have  to  say.  Then  I  think  you  had  better  come 
and  see  me  again." 

"That  was  my  intention." 


WALK  IN,  MR.  FLY.  365 

"Take  it  all  in  all,  it's  one  of  the  most  interesting 
cases  I  ever  had  in  my  hands,  I  wonder  how  many 
more  complications  there  will  be?" 

"I  do  not  propose  to  make  any,  I  assure  you.  I 
am  quite  willing  to  be  guided  entirely  by  your  advice.' 

"Then  see  to  it,  my  dear  sir,  that  neither  Mr. 
Dillaye  nor  his  wife  obtains  the  smallest  atom  of 
fresh  information  from  you.  It  might  be  injurious 
if  they  should.  It  might  not,  but  the  less  they 
know,  the  better." 

"  I  have  no  intimation  of  his  -purpose  in  having 
me  call.  It  may  be  in  relation  to  some  business 
matter." 

"Yes,  very  important  business,  to  him.  He's  a 
good  deal  of  a  fox,  Mr.  Heron,  but  he's  a  baby  com. 
pared  to  that  wife  of  his.  You  will  see.  now.'1 

So  warned,  Augustus  felt  in  a  manner  forearmed, 
but  there  was  a  tantalizing  bit  of  a  surprise  in  store 
for  him  also.  He  called,  he  was  well  received  by 
Mr.  Dillaye,  and  more  than  well  by  the  lady  of  the 
house.  But  there  were  other  guests,  including  a 
couple  of  very  fascinating  young  ladies,  heiresses, 
selected  from  the  choice  preserves  of  that  aristo- 
cratic neighborhood.  Augustus  was  charmed,  and 
his  host  and  hostess  appeared  so  willing  he  should 
be  that  the  evening  slipped  away  unawares,  and  at 
last,  when  he  made  some  mention  of  the  hour,  Mr. 
Dillaye  replied : 

"Can  it  be  so  late?     I  beg  you  a  thousand  par- 


366  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

dons.  The  ladies  did  it.  Of  course  we  cannot  do 
anything  with  business  to-night,  but,  if  it  would  not 
be  asking  too  much — " 

"O  don't  speak  of  it.  I  have  enjoyed  myself 
exceedingly.  Shall  be  most  happy  to  call  again,  if 
you  will  be  good  enough  to  name  an  evening." 

*'This  night  week?  Or  any  other,  if  you  are  up 
this  way.  I'm  almost  always  at  home,  and  if  I'm 
not,  Mrs.  Dillaye,  I  am  sure — " 

That  lady  had  received  a  sign  to  draw  near,  and 
she  was  ready  at  this  juncture  to  reinforce  her  hus- 
band in  a  manner  which  would  have  been  quite 
overwhelming  to  an  unsophisticated  young  man, 
such  as  Mr.  Augustus  Heron,  with  all  his  good 
points,  decidedly  was  not.  He  took  his  leave,  but 
here  was  a  report,  indeed,  to  make  to  Mr.  Allyn. 
When  he  made  it,  the  next  day,  the  man  of  law 
and  subtlety  sat  away  back  in  his  chair  and  came 
within  an  ace  of  laughing  outright. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "it's  all  plain  enough 
now.  No  other  business  would  have  been  handled 
in  that  way.  One  evening  to  study  you,  and  then, 
'will  you  walk  in,  Mr.  Fly?'  Go  again,  a  little  be- 
fore the  week  is  out.  Not  to  be  in  any  hurry,  you 
know,  but  just  the  least  in  the  world  dazzled." 

"  I  think  I  must  look  a  little  dazzled,"  remarked 
Augustus.  "  If  I  were  only  a  trifle  more  used  to 
the  company  of  fashionable  ladies,  now!" 

"That's   good.     Very   good.     You   will   do,  my 


WALK  IN,  MR.  PL  Y.  367 

dear  sir.  Upon  my  word  you  will.   I  am  sure  of  it." 

And,  after  Augustus  had  taken  his  departure, 
Mr.  Allyn  repeated  to  himself  his  conviction  that: 

"  Yes,  he'll  do.  Not  a  bad  lot,  by  any  means,  but 
what  an  essay  he  could  write  on  cheek  and  its  uses. 
I'd  like  to  see  him  and  Mrs.  Dillaye  together,  with- 
out their  seeing  me.  It  would  be  a  study  for  an 
artist." 

Mr.  Augustus  Heron  must  have  managed,  in 
some  way,  to  win  a  high  place  in  the  esteem  of 
Mr.  Counsellor  Allyn. 

The  days  went  by,  however,  and  the  young  man 
faithfully  observed  the  advice  of  his  counsel,  which 
was  a  strong  sign  of  common  sense,  and  timed  his 
next  call  at  the  Dillaye  mansion  just  twenty-four 
hours  within  the  suggested  week. 

The  master  of  the  house  was  not  at  home,  but 
soon  would  be.  Mrs.  Dillaye — 

"  Please  hand  her  my  card.  I  will  come  in  and 
wait." 

There  was  no  other  company,  that  evening,  but 
Mrs.  Dillaye's  greeting  was  all  that  the  most  rapa- 
cious young  gentleman  caller  could  have  demanded. 

So  softly,  winningly  cordial,  and  with  such  an 
unnoticed  but  exquisitely  rapid  drift  through  the 
friendly  into  the  almost  confidential. 

How  and  by  what  masterly  turn  of  her  tongue 
did  she  bring  Augustus  into  a  discussion  of  the 
Browns,  and  at  what  point  of  it  did  she  slip  over 


368  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

Fred  and  Mrs.  Boyce  and  Mabel,  right  past  Mr. 
Daniel  Brown  himself,  and  his  mining  picnic,  and 
close  her  sudden  lips  upon  the  name  of  Carrie 
Dillaye  ? 

Augustus  tried,  more  than  once,  afterwards,  to 
make  out  how  she  had  done  it,  but,  like  the  path 
of  a  serpent  on  a  rock,  her  windings  left  no  tracea- 
ble trail. 

"  My  own  poor,  dear,  unfortunate  step-daughter. 
How  I  do  love  that  girl,  Mr.  Heron,  and  how  sin- 
cerely I  commiserate  her.  No  one  knows  what  her 
father  and  I  have  suffered  on  her  account !" 

And  she  never  said  a  truer  word,  for  nobody 
knew. 

Augustus  could  but  reply  with  a  remark  which 
somewhat  vaguely  expressed  his  high  esteem  for 
the  young  lady  in  question,  and  there  was  then  a 
sad  and  motherly  smile  on  Mrs.  Dillaye's  face  when 
she  assured  him  that  she  was  by  no  means  ignorant 
of  his  intimacy  with  the  household  of  Mr.  Brown. 

"You  must,  however,"  she  said,  "  be  ignorant  of 
some  things,  some  facts,  some  dreadful  facts,  which 
even  poor  Caroline's  nearest  and  dearest  could  not 
conscientiously  conceal.  That  is,  from  any  one 
who,  in  their  best  judgment,  had  a  right  to  know." 

"  Most  honorable  on  your  part,  I  am  sure,  but 
nothing  would  induce  me  to  pry  into  matters  which 
might  be  regarded  as  sacred  by  others." 

"  Your  delicacy  does  you  credit,  my  dear  young 


WALK  IN,  MR.  FL  Y.  369 

friend,  but — O  I  hope  I  am  not  committing  an 
error!  Can  I  trust  you,  Mr.  Heron?" 

"  Implicitly,  Mrs.  Dillaye." 

"Then  I  will— I  must— I  feel  that  it  is  your 
due!" 

And  she  did,  unflinchingly.  So  fully,  so  circum- 
stantially, so  graphically,  that  before  .she  had 
really  done  full  justice,  in  her  own  eyes,  to  the  sad 
misfortunes  of  her  step-daughter,  she  had  the  satis- 
faction, more  than  once,  of  seeing  her  gentleman 
guest  change  color,  vividly,  while  the  toe  of  his 
right  foot  beat  rapidly  and  nervously  upon  the 
noiseless  carpet.  In  fact,  several  times  his  mouth 
came  open,  and  then  shut  again  as  if  he  were  biting 
something  in  two,  but  not  an  audible  word  escaped 
him. 

Could  it  be  that  Augustus  was  passing  through 
some  kind  of  an  ordeal  ?  Some  unprecedented  test 
of  his  power  of  self-control,  and  of  obeying  the  ad- 
vice of  his  counsel  ? 

Very  possibly,  but,  if  so,  he  came  out  of  it  vic- 
toriously, for  Mrs.  Dillaye  was  herself  surprised  by 
his  entire  reticence. 

That  was  when,  at  last,  she  paused,  giving  an  op- 
portunity for  a  reply,  and  manifestly  expecting  one. 

None  came,  for  a  moment,  and  a  slight  flush  be- 
gan to  arise  in  the  cheeks  of  the  lady,  which  were 
at  all  times  somewhat  fresh  in  color. 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty,"  she  said. 


370 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


"  Believe  me,  madame,  I  am  not  insensible," 
slowly  remarked  Augustus.  "The  truly  painful 
facts  you  have  confided  to  me  are  safe  in  my  keep- 
ing. Not  a  living  soul  shall  ever  hear  them  from 
my  lips.  Not  even  my  brother." 

"  Your  brother?" 

"  Yes,  my  brother  Fred.  He  told  me,  once,  a  good 
deal  that  you  have  now.  Some  things  he  omitted. 
He  may  not  have  known  them.  Some  other  things 
he  said  that  you  have  omitted." 

"Other  things?     What  other  things?" 

"  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Dillaye,  I  could  not  be  guilty 
of  a  breach  of  confidence  with  him,  any  more  than 
with  you.  All  I  have  learned,  from  either  source, 
will  be  held  absolutely  sacred,  I  assure  you." 

He  had  been  taking  out  his  watch,  as  he  spoke, 
and  he  suddenly  added.  "So  late?  Dear  me,  I  had 
no  idea  of  the  time.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  my 
terribly  long  call.  I  must  see  Mr.  Dillaye  some 
other  night." 

"  He  will  soon  be  in — 

"  O  but  I  have  trespassed  already.  You  are 
so  kind,  but  I  must  not  take  advantage — 

He  had  risen  now,  and  although  Mrs.  Dillaye  did 
her  best  to  detain  him,  without  appearing  too  anx- 
ious, Augustus  managed  to  make  his  escape.  He 
did  so,  too,  full  of  malicious  pleasure  over  the  as- 
surance that  he  had  left  behind  him  a  female  mind 
ready  to  burst  with  curiosity  concerning  "  those 


WALK  IN,  MR.  FL  Y,  3 7 1 

other  things"  which  had  come  to  him  from  Fred. 

"  It  is  my  revenge,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  I 
owed  her  that  much.  But  wasn't  it  tough  work,  to 
sit  and  hear  the  old  she-devil  go  on  at  that  rate 
about  Carrie  ?  I  believe  the  worst,  now.  Who'd 
believe  a  Vvoman  could  have  so  bitter  a  charge  of 
gall  in  her.  She  doesn't  deserve  any  mercy,  and 
she  wont  get  any,  so  far  as  I  have  anything  to  say 
about  it." 

Nor  was  he  innocent  of  a  shrewd  guess,  repeated 
by  Mr.  Allyn  when  he  met  him,  next  day,  at  the 
truth,  for  such  it  was,  that  Mr.  Stephen  Dillaye  had 
been  at  home  that  evening,  and  that  all  the  "busi- 
ness" contemplated  by  his  invitation  to  call  had 
been  quite  thoroughly  transacted. 

Whether  satisfactorily  or  not  was  one  of  the  con- 
undrums which  remained  for  that  gentleman  and 
his  wife  to  puzzle  over. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THERE  IS  NO  SUCH  THING  AS  CERTAINTY  IN  A  PAY- 
STREAK. 

IF  one  being  more  than  another  seemed  to  have 
impressed  his  character,  for  the  season,  upon  the 
gloriously  beautiful  surroundings  of  the  wonderful 
mine,  it  was  the  angel  of  peace,  if  so  be  there  is 
such  a  being,  and  if  he  is  an  angel,  and  if  he  has  any 
character  to  impress. 

At  any  distance  from  the  camp  the  silence  was 
oppressive,  unless  the  ear  took  note  of  those  voices 
of  nature  whose  gathered  and  blended  volume  comes 
to  us  so  like  an  essential  element  of  genuine  silence. 

Up  there  in  the  rocky  amphitheatre,  above  the 
narrow  head  of  the  ravine,  the  sound  of  human 
voices  and  the  muffled  stroke  of  tools  on  the  rock 
or  on  other  tools,  broke  through  the  natural  charm 
to  suggest  another  and  stronger  fascination,  while 
out  upon  the  prairie  the  feeding  animals  of  the  train, 
and  the  wild  ones  who  came  to  look  at  them  and 
then  bound  away,  prevented  the  sense  of  solitude 

372 


HIDDEN  DANGERS.  373 

from  ever  becoming  painful.  Even  the  adjacent 
cliffs  were  sometimes  crowned  with  groups  of  "  big- 
horned"  sentinels  gazing  curiously  down. 

These  latter  were  of  interest  to  the  hunters  and 
the  camp  larder,  as  well  as  to  the  lady  tourists,  but 
they  belonged,  after  all,  to  the  prevailing  atmos- 
phere of  peace  which  came,  each  day,  close  on  the 
heels  of  the  sunrise  and  the  morning  mist. 

Day  followed  day  in  almost  cloudless  beauty,  and 
Dr.  Milyng  congratulated  himself  and  Mr.  Brown 
that  not  the  slightest  interruption  from  w*ar  or 
weather  had  caused  the  waste  of  precious  working 
time.  The  picks  and  spades  had  been  plied  with 
steady  energy,  the  little  "reducing  mill"  had  been 
worked  to  its  full  capacity,  and  under  the  doctor's 
skilful  direction, -quite  a  stack  of  yellow  ingots  had 
already  been  smelted  out  as  witnesses  of  the  extra- 
ordinary richness  of  that  "  pay-streak/'  But  there 
were  clouds  in  the  gold-mining  sky,  nevertheless. 

"  We're  not  doing  very  clean  work,  Mr.  Brown." 
remarked  the  veteran  miner  one  morning.  "We  must 
save  all  our  tailings.  It'll  pay  to  work  'em  over,  every 
pound  of  'em.  But  how  the  vein  does  improve  as 
we  go  in.  The  boys  are  fairly  wild  about  it,  and  they 
work  splendidly.  I  have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout, 
or  they'll  get  careless  with  their  blasting.  We've  en- 
larged the  tunnel,  now,  so  we  can  work  free,  and 
we're  ten  feet  further  in.  We  shall  go  ahead  fast, 
now." 


374  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  doctor,  the  mine  is  all  we 
could  ask." 

"  We  shall  know  more  about  it  after  we  reach  the 
first  fault." 

"  Do  you  look  for  one  ?" 

"  Can't  say.  Fve  been  up  on  the  ledge  above, 
and  I  ain't  sure,  but  we  shall  know,  pretty  soon,  where 
we  must  sink  our  first  shaft." 

"  But  what  if  the  vein  keeps  right  on  into  the 
mountain,  unbroken?" 

The  doctor's  face  clouded  a  little,  but  he  answered, 
steadily: 

"  That,  Mr.  Brown,  is  a  good  deal  more  than  I  care 
to  promise  you,  to-day.  We  shall  soon  know,  at  all 
events." 

"A  fault.  A  fault,"  muttered  the  merchant,  as 
he  turned  away.  "  I  believe  I  know  what  that 
means.  Will  it  be  a  check  to  all  these  plans  and 
dreams  of  mine?  The  doctor  does  not  seem  to  be 
much  disturbed  about  it.  He  does  not  mean  it 
shall  take  me  by  surprise  if  it  comes.  Such  ore  as 
that  is.  To  think  of  the  vein  running  out  against 
a  dead  wall  of  rock." 

And  yet  that  is  precisely  the  meaning  of  a  "  fault," 
in  mining  language,  and  sometimes  it  means  a  good 
deal,  and  sometimes  not  so  much. 

Peace  and  plenty,  and  tons  on  tons  of  rich  ore,  in 
the  present,  therefore,  but  how  about  the  future? 

That  is  the  ever-recurring  record  of  all  the  veins 


HIDDEN  DA  NGERS.  375 

in  the  world's  history,  whether  their  "  pay-streak'' 
involves  a  metal  or  the  life  of  a  nation.  And  there 
is  always  one  thing  which  can  be  done,  and  that  is 
to  work  hard  while  the  pay-streak  lasts. 

So  they  did,  and  all  that  while  the  ladies  found 
enough  to  do  and  enjoy,  to  keep  them  from  weary- 
ing of  their  new,  strange  life,  and  Fred  Heron  di- 
vided his  time  very  fairly  between  them  and  the 
mine. 

A  strange  fellow  he  was  growing  to  be,  and  Mrs. 
Boyce  declared  to  Mabel  Varick  that  he  puzzled 
her  more  than  ever. 

"  The  very  expression  of  his  face  has  changed 
since  we  came  among  the  mountains.  There's 
something  loftier  in  it,  but  not  so  much  sunshine  as 
I'd  like  to  see.  He  has  been  through  a  great  deal 
for  one  so  young." 

"And  he  is  young,"  said  Mabel,  thoughtfully. 
"  I  half  forget  that." 

Not  old,  certainly,  although  he  felt  so,  at  times, 
but  he  could  have  told  his  lady  friends,  had  he 
chosen  to  do  so,  that  his  present  experiences  were 
quite  equal  to  any  he  had  known  before.  Very  like 
a  sequel  to  them,  in  some  respects,  with  the  past 
cropping  out  in  the  face  of  the  present,  as  it  is  al- 
ways sure  to  do. 

"  Seems  to  me,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  there's  a 
sort  of  a  mining  tunnel  being  bored  into  me.  Good 
and  deep.  It  hurts,  too,  for  the  picking  and  drill- 


376  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

ing  goes  on  without  much  mercy.  Wonder  if 
anything  worth  while  will  be  found  at  the  end 
of  it." 

And  then  his  face,  for  a  moment,  told  of  the  hurt 
and  the  suffering,  whatever  may  have  been  the 
cause  of  it. 

He  too  had  his  conferences  with  Dr.  Milyng,  and 
perhaps  he  knew  more  than  Mr.  Brown  of  the  possi- 
bilities before  them.  If  so,  he  had  nothing  to  say 
about  it,  for  the  work  must,  in  any  event,  go  on. 

And  the  doctor  himself? 

Well,  so  far  as  the  picnic  and  the  lady  tourists 
were  concerned,  the  doctor  had  almost  ceased  to 
be.  He  was  a  mine,  a  tunnel,  a  pay-streak,  a  walk- 
ing embodiment  of  a  wonderful  dream  of  gold,  but 
he  was  very  little  more.  The  fire  in  his  black  eyes 
grew  deeper  and  sometimes  fiercer,  day  by  day,  and 
his  red  lips  came  together  with  a  harder  compression. 
He  was  polite,  to  the  verge  of  extravagance,  but 
that  was  only  a  surface  indication.  It  was  plain 
that  he  was  under  a  pressure  of  excitement  almost 
too  intense  for  even  his  nerves  of  iron.  All  saw  it, 
and  Mr.  Brown  found  himself  getting  moody  and 
anxious,  in  spite  of  the  apparent  triumph  at  the 
close  of  each  day's  work. 

"  So  much  depends  upon  it,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Boyce.  "  If  all  I  have  spent  were  a  dead  loss,  I 
should  not  mind  it,  but  if  it  should  prove  not  to  be 
a  true  vein — " 


HIDDEN  DANGERS.  377 

"  How  could  you  lose  much,  with  such  a  quantity 
of  good  ore  already  out?" 

"  That  would  be  something,  to  be  sure.  But 
then  the  future  would  be  lost.  I  am  not  digging 
for  gold  on  my  own  account,  Mrs.  Boyce." 

"  Indeed,  I  know  you  are  not  selfish  in  this,  or  in 
any  other  matter.  But  why  do  you  let  it  worry 
you  ?  Worry  will  not  help  the  matter." 

She  was  always  ready  to  assume  the  attitude  of 
a  wise  and  gentle  mentor,  and  she  did  it  admirably 
well.  All  the  better  because  her  desire  to  be 
of  use  in  that  direction  was  unquestionably  sin- 
cere. 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,  Mrs.  Boyce,  but  if  you 
only  knew  what  hopes  I  have  built  up,  with  that 
hole  in  the  ledge  for  a  foundation." 

"  Not  a  bad  one,  I  hope.  By  the  way,  begging 
your  pardon  for  a  change  of  subject,  have  you 
noticed  Carrie  Dillaye  of  late?" 

"  No,  not  specially.  She  seems  to  be  well,  does 
she  not?" 

"Yes,  well  enough." 

"And  enjoying  herself?" 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  a  good  deal  more  quiet  and  re- 
served than  formerly." 

"Can  you  imagine  any  reason  ?" 

"  None  which  might  not  be  a  grave  injustice  to 
her  as  well  as  to  somebody  else." 

"I    think  I  understand  you,  Mrs.  Boyce.     Will 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

you  do  me  the  favor  to  advise  me  of  anything  which 
in  your  opinion  calls  for  my  attention?" 

"  Most  assuredly  I  will,  but  I  would  not  make  a 
mistake  in  such  a  matter,  for  a  good  deal.  And 
yet,  you  know,  there  have  been  peculiar  circum- 
stances." 

"  I  know.  I  know.  I  am  not  at  all  foolish  about 
such  things.  She  might  have  greater  misfortunes 
than  that  come  to  her." 

"  Yes,  indeed  she  might." 

That  was  just  an  hour  or  so  after  supper,  one 
glorious  evening,  when  the  sky  was  all  one  blaze  of 
stars,  in  that  pure  atmosphere,  and  Mabel  Varick 
could  have  told  them,  if  they  had  asked  her,  that 
Carrie  Dillaye  was  at  that  very  moment  strolling 
out  among  the  pines  at  the  edge  of  the  prairie,  ac- 
companied by  Fred  Heron. 

There  had  been  some  talk,  not  much  encouraged 
by  Dr.  Milyng,  of  an  excursion,  before  long,  to  the 
ruins  of  the  ancient  city,  and  for  some  minutes  the 
chat  of  the  young  people  had  leaned  that  way.  It 
did  so  until  they  were  safely  beyond  all  peril  of 
other  ears,  and  then  Fred  suddenly  broke  away 
from  it  with : 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  Carrie,  and  my  mind 
is  made  up." 

"And  you  think?" 

"  That  your  uncle  ought  to  know.  I  have  obeyed 
your  wishes,  thus  far,  although  it  has  been 


HIDDEN  DA  NGERS.  3  79 

clearer  and  clearer  to  me  that  I  had  no  right  to 

do  so." 

"  No  more  have  I.     And  yet,  how  can  I  tell  him? 

It  has  been  crushing  me  to  the  earth.  He  is  so 
good  and  kind.  He  has  done  so  much  for  me.  Oh, 
why  did  I  ever  put  myself  in  such  a  false  po- 
sition !" 

She  was  sobbing,  now,  and  Fred  made  no  attempt 
to  comfort  her.  He  only  said,  almost  coldly: 

"There  is  but  one  way  out  of  a  false  position. 
You  have  asked  me  to  decide.  I  have  waited  and 
waited.  I  decided  long  ago — " 

u  But  I  cannot  bear  to  do  it!" 

"  Do  you  remember  the  hospital  on  the  Island, 
Carrie,  when  you  would  not  let  me  write  to  your 
friends,  and  I  told  you  I  would  do  so  without  your 
permission?" 

"  And  you  wrote  to  Mr.  Brown." 

"Would  concealment  have  done  any  good  then ?" 

"  No,  but  what  will  he  think  of  us?" 

"  Nor  will  it  now.  I  cannot  help  what  he  thinks. 
I  must  do  my  duty.  Will  you  tell  him,  or  shall  I? 
One  of  us  must,  and  without  any  further  delay." 

"  O  if  you  would  !  I  cannot.  You  are  a  man. 
I  never  was  very  strong.  I  have  done  weak  and 
foolish  things  all  my  life." 

"  I  will  tell  him,  then,  the  first  chance  I  can  get. 
Let  us  walk  back  to  the  camp  now." 

Weak  natures,  erratic,  unevenly-developed  minds, 


380  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

have  one  characteristic  in  common  which  is  too 
often  lost  sight  of.  They  are  subject  to  spasms  of 
will-power  which  temporarily,  often  hysterically, 
counterfeit  strength. 

If  Fred  Heron  was  aware  of  it  he  was  expecting 
nothing  of  the  kind  from  Carrie  Dillaye,  for,  after 
he  parted  from  her,  within  the  circle  of  light  from 
the  fading  camp-fire,  he  strode  away  again  in  the 
shadows.  He  did  not  see,  therefore,  how  anxiously 
she  looked  around,  or  how,  when  she  saw  her  uncle 
just  parting  from  Mrs.  Boyce  at  the  door  of  her 
tent,  she  stepped  rapidly  and  firmly  forward  till 
she  could  lay  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Uncle  Daniel,  I  have  something  I  want  to  say 
to  you." 

"To  me,  Carrie?  Well,  my  dear,  I  am  ready  to 
hear  it.  I  like  to  have  you  come  to  me." 

That  was  encouragingly  and  kindly  said,  but  it 
reached  no  other  ears  than  Carrie's,  nor  did  her  an- 
swer, nor  any  of  the  other  words  of  a  conversation, 
under  the  shadows  of  the  lordly  pines,  in  the  course 
of  which  Mr.  Daniel  Brown  forgot,  for  awhile,  all 
about  his  mine  and  his  great  plans.  For  although 
he  listened  and  said  little,  and  although  Carrie's 
voice  was  full  of  pleading,  even  of  tears,  it 
soon  became  plain  that  the  wrath  of  the  merchant 
was  kindled  within  him.  It  is  said,  too,  that  those 
who  are  slow  to  wrath  are  sometimes  more  to  be 
dreaded,  more  savage  and  unreasonable  than  others, 


HIDDEN  DA  NGERS.  3  8 1 

when  by  any  means  their  inner  furnace  is  heated 
for  them. 

And  all  that  time  Fred  Heron  was  strolling  aim- 
lessly around  by  himself,  except   when,  at   last,  he 
found  a  comfortless  seat   on  a   rugged  bowlder  of 
quartz  and  held  up  his  saddened,  suffering  face  to 
the  starlight. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  SEASON  OF  VERY  BRIGHT  WEATHER  CLOSES  IN  A 
STORM. 

THE  scattered  ruins  of  the  ancient  city  put  on 
an  air  of  peculiar  beauty,  that  starlit  night. 
In  the  broad  glare  of  noon  there  was  something 
commonplace  about  them.  They  were  then  so 
many  piles  of  crumbling  masonry,  such  as  abound 
in  the  too  well-known  and  too  much  described 
holiday-lands  of  Europe,  and  Asia,  and  Africa,  where 
dates  abound,  and  the  kind  of  obtrusive  fiction 
known  as  history  robs  the  defenceless  walls,  and  so 
forth,  of  half  their  interest. 

Nobody  had  as  yet  set  any  lamp-posts  in  this 
western  oblivion,  and  at  night  the  stars  had  things 
all  their  own  way.  There  was  not  so  much  as  a 
camp-fire  among  the  ruins,  but  there  was  a  very 
good  one  a  half-mile  to  the  southward. 

There  was  mystery  enough  among  the  relics  of 
ancient  architecture,  but  there  was  very  little 
around  that  camp-fire,  for  even  the  Big  Medicine 

382 


FA  UL  TS  !  FALSE  !  383 

was  for  the  time  being  holding  forth  in  the  charac- 
ter of  an  earthly  counsellor. 

It  was  well  for  the  excursion  party  from  the 
mining-picnic  that  they  had  postponed  their  coming, 
for  that  particular  band  of  Apaches  had  not  yet 
held  an  interview  with  General  Crump,  and  their 
council  was  a  good  deal  more  enterprising  than 
pacific  in  the  tone  of  its  discussions. 

There  was  force,  too,  in  the  oration  of  the  Big 
Medicine. 

First,  he  told    them,   a    few  loose   miners   came 
straggling  in,  and  had  carried  nothing  out,  not  even 
their  scalps.    Then  one    audacious  robber  had  made 
free  with  his  own  horse    and  robe,  not  to  mention 
the  pony,  and  he  had  gone  down  among  the  buffalo 
bones,  as  was    fit     and    proper.     Then    three  who 
came  to  dig  had  been  destroyed  through  the  sagaci- 
ty of  his  own  medicine   mule.     So  far,  all  was   se- 
rene, but  now  a  larger,  more  important  party  of 
white  men,  vastly  better  worth  plundering,  had  ven- 
tured to  make  what  looked  like  a  permanent  settle- 
ment.    Should  this  be  permitted,  there  would  be 
no  more  use  for  Apaches  in  all  that  region.     Clean 
work  was  called  for,  and  the  sooner  it  was  done  the 
better.     What   hope    had    they  for   presents    from 
their  Great  Father  at  Washington,  unless  they  made 
themselves  felt  and  their  power  appreciated,  from 
time  to  time? 

There   was   no  such  thing   as  replying  to  such 


384  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

practical  eloquence  as  that,  and  the  best  and  wari- 
est scouts  were  accordingly  sent  out,  that  the  chiefs 
and  elders  might  not  make  their  further  plans  in 
the  absence  of  accurate  information. 

The  scouts  departed,  the  council  adjourned  itself, 
and  nothing  whatever  remained  to  interfere  with 
the  peaceful  character  of  the  scenery,  for  an  Indian 
village  is  quiet  enough  when  even  the  dogs  are 
tired  and  have  gone  to  sleep  after  a  full  supper. 

It  is  a  good  deal  so  with  more  civilized  communi- 
ties, but  when  the  dogs  are  neither  worked  hard 
nor  fed  full  the  nights  are  apt  to  be  noisy.  Perhaps 
the  best  remedy  for  such  difficulties  is  the  one 
never  thought  of — not  to  keep  any  dogs. 

Miles  and  miles  away,  in  the  mining  camp,  only 
the  watchful  "  lookouts"  were  apparently  stirring. 
Dr.  Milyng  was  not  the  man  to  neglect  that  sort  of 
precaution,  under  such  circumstances,  and  he  had 
brought  with  him  men  of  whose  trustworthiness  he 
knew  or  could  learn  something. 

Everybody  else  ought  to  have  been  sound  asleep, 
but  the  thing  which  ought  to  be  is  rarely  the  thing 
which  is. 

The  doctor  himself  lay  rolled  up  in  his  blanket, 
under  a  tree,  with  his  head  on  a  saddle,  according 
to  his  highest  idea  of  comfort,  but  his  eyes  were 
not  closed.  They  were  still  striving,  as  they  had 
been  all  that  day,  to  penetrate  a  few  feet  further 
into  the  rock  his  men  had  been  drilling. 


FA  UL TS !  FALSE !  385 

Fred  Heron  had  gone  to  his  tent,  when  he  grew 
weary  of  watching  the  stars,  but  he  had  not  thrown 
aside  any  portion  of  his  clothing.  He  had  stretched 
himself  at  full  length  on  his  camp-bed,  but  it  had 
never  before  seemed  so  comfortless  a  couch  and  he 
was  wide,  very  wide,  awake. 

"  What  right  had  a  man  like  me,"  he  muttered, 
"  to  let  such  a  thing  come  in  ?  All  my  other  foes  have 
crept  in  upon  me  before  I  knew  it.  I  let  a  thing 
take  full  possession  of  me  before  I  begin  to  fight  it. 
Then  I  have  to  suffer  the  consequences  of  my  folly. 
And  yet,  I  might  have  been  a  man.  I  might  have 
had  a  right  to  aspire,  even  to  her.  Seems  to  me  I 
have  all  my  life  been  swimming,  or  trying  to  swim, 
with  shot  in  my  pockets.  Then  I  go  down,  down, 
down,  every  time,  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  didn't 
put  it  all  in,  either.  Well,  who  did?  I  don't  care 
to  accuse  anybody.  Gus,  he's  provided  for.  Bessie's 
married  and  happy,  I  hope.  Her  husband  '11  have 
all  the  advice  he  can  live  up  to,  that's  one  certain 
thing.  I  hope  he's  a  man  of  strong  digestive 
powers.  Stronger  than  mine.  Anyhow,  I  must 
see  Mr.  Brown,  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and 
get  at  least  one  load  off  my  mind,  whatever  maybe 
the  consequences." 

And  so  he  lay  and  tossed  about,  and  muttered, 
just  as  he  had  done,  many  another  night,  in  the 
memory-crowded  gloom  of  the  hospital  on  the  Is- 
land. 


386  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  ladies  tented  together,  under  a  great  spread 
of  canvas,  with  ail  sorts  of  comforts  and  even  ele- 
gancies about  them.  Separate  couches,  to  be  sure, 
and  movable  screens  between  them,  but  no  parti- 
tions through  which  the  sound  of  an  ill-advised 
soliloquy  would  not  have  been  audible. 

If  they  were  awake,  therefore,  they  were  compelled 
to  husband  at  least  their  voices,  whatever  they 
might  do  with  their  thoughts. 

Once  or  twice  the  others  imagined  they  heard  a 
sound  resembling  a  suppressed  and  smothered  sob 
from  Carrie  Dillaye's  corner,  but,  if  so,  they  did  not 
tell  her  they  had  heard  it. 

What  would  Dr.  Milyng  have  said  if  he  had 
known  that  the  thoughts  of  the  widow  were  dwell- 
ing on  the  same  subject  with  his  own. 

"A  fault?"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  would  not 
like  to  have  Mr.  Brown  disappointed.  I  hope  he 
may  succeed,  but  not  just  now.  Entire  success  or 
utter  failure  would  alike  be  disastrous  to  me.  Of 
the  two  I  would  prefer  the  latter.  I  think  he  would 
need  me,  then.  I  never  intended  to  let  myself  be- 
come so  deeply  interested,  but  what  a  man  he  is. 
He  is  only  ten  years  older  than  I  am.  He  needs 
me,  too.  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  woman  his  first 
wife  was.  Not  very  strong,  I  fancy.  She  and  both 
her  sisters  died  before  they  were  of  middle  age. 
That's  not  uncommon.  All  married  well,  too.  That 
is,  what  the  world  calls  well.  So  did  I,  but  the 


FA  UL  TS  !  FALSE  !  387 

world  does  not  always  know  everything.  I  wonder 
what  it  thinks  of  me.  Sure  to  be  wrong,  I  can  an- 
swer for  that,  when  I  do  not  even  know  myself. 
Does  anybody  do  that  ?" 

As  for  Mabel  Varick,  she  got  to  sleep  at  last,  and 
Nebuchadnezzar  himself  would  have  been  troubled 
by  such  dreams  as  came  to  her. 

Not  the  first  ones,  of  a  young  man  and  a  young 
woman  wandering  away  together  under  the  pines 
and  the  starlight,  although  sometimes  she  seemed 
to  be  herself  that  young  woman,  and  sometimes 
that  young  woman  seemed  to  be  somebody  else. 

But  then  the  young  man  underwent  a  change, 
and  became  a  mountain,  a  sort  of  human  moun- 
tain, but  with  a  terrible  air  of  inaccessibility  about 
it.  Very  grand  and  high,  and  very  hard.  And  then 
she  found  herself  mining  for  gold  in  the  side  of 
that  mountain,  and  voices  told  her  continually  about 
"  faults,  faults,  horrible  faults,"  such  as  made  it 
not  worth  her  while  to  mine  there,  and  she  heard 
herself  reply : 

"  But  the  golden  heart,  so  rich,  so  wonderfully 
rich.  I  know  it  is  in  here,  somewhere.  I  will  spend 
all  I  am  worth,  but  I  will  find  it." 

Something  like  that  may  have  been  running,  at 
about  the  same  time,  through  the  troubled  mind 
of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown,  but  not  all  of  his  midnight 
perplexities  came  to  him  from  the  hole  in  the 
ledge. 


3SS  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

11  Betrayed,"  he  muttered.  "  Insulted,  deceived. 
Concealed  it  from  me.  I'm  glad  Mrs.  Boyce  did 
not  know  anything  about  it.  She  would  have  told 
me,  I'm  sure  she  would.  She  has  my  interests  at 
heart.  Yes,  and  she  would  respect  my  feelings. 
And  yet  I  do  not  see,  for  my  life,  why  I  should 
feel  it  so  deeply.  A  boy  and  a  girl.  Both  fools. 
A  good  deal  of  worldly  cunning  on  his  part,  too, 
I  should  say.  But  his  brother.  I  was  never  so 
upset  and  disappointed  about  anybody.  I'd  have 
trusted — well  it's  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,  and 
the  doctor  tells  me  we  shall  probably  get  our  answer 
from  the  mine  to-morrow." 

A  curious  night,  all  around,  but  it  could  not  last 
forever,  and  people  who  rest  badly  are  apt  to  rise 
early,  especially  if  the  causes  of  their  unrest  rise 
before  them  and  wait  for  them  ready  dressed  to 
say  "  Bad  morning." 

A  glorious  morning,  too,  as  Mr.  Brown  was  re- 
marking to  himself,  when  he  looked  out  upon  it 
from  the  border  of  the  camp,  but  just  then  an- 
other voice  came  to  his  ears,  and  he  turned  to  look 
into  the  pale  and  troubled  face  of  Fred  Heron. 

"  Mr.  Brown,  I  have  something  on  my  mind. 
Something  I  desire  to  tell  you." 

"  Ah,  have  you,  indeed  ?" 

The  answer  did  not  come  in  the  merchant's  usual 
tone  or  manner,  but  Fred  went  on  : 

"  It  is  something  I  have  been  longing  to  say,  and 


FAULTS!  FALSE!  389 

my  conscience  tells  me  I  ought  to  have  said  it  be- 
fore. I  cannot  and  will  not  keep  it  from  you  any 
longer." 

"Spare  yourself,  Mr.  Heron,  you  need  not  give 
yourself  any  pain.  You  are  too  late  with  your 
news.  Carrie — Mrs.  Heron  that  now  is — told  me 
the  whole  story,  before  I  went  to  bed  last  night. 
It  is  a  miserable  affair.  A  most  unprovoked  and 
unworthy  insult  to  myself.  It  should  not  have 
been  thought  of.  Least  of  all  should  it  have  been 
concealed  from  me  by  those  in  whom  I  was  repos- 
ing such  entire  confidence.  Carrie  is  a  woman.  A 
young  one.  In  very  peculiar  circumstances.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  condemn  her,  altogether.  But  a 
man.  You — " 

"You  condemn  me,  Mr.  Brown?" 

"  Condemn  ?  Ask  yourself,  sir.  How  can  I  trust 
you,  henceforth?  What  confidence  can  I  put  in  a 
man  who  has  once  betrayed  me?  More  than  that, 
sir.  Is  not  this  an  explanatory  comment  on  your 
whole  character?  Does  it  not  throw  a  light  on 
your  past  career?  What  else  can  I  think,  sir?" 

The  old  lines  of  suffering  had  been  settling  them- 
selves deep  and  rigidly  in  Fred's  face  while  the 
merchant  was  speaking.  Every  word  and  look  fell 
like  a  sharp  blow  on  an  old  sore,  sending  successive 
pangs  through  his  whole  being.  Blows  of  the  same 
sort  upon  a  healthy  organism  are  never  felt  in  such 
a  manner  as  that.  A  certain  amount  of  education 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

in  the  art  of  suffering  is  required  before  a  man  can 
get  the  full  benefit  of  an  unjust  or  bitter  speech. 
Fred  Heron's  powers  in  that  direction  were  fully 
developed,  and  Mr.  Brown's  angry,  taunting,  scorn- 
ful tirade  was  too  much  for  him. 

He  had,  perhaps,  expected  something  unpleasant, 
but  nothing  like  this,  for  he  had  greatly  under-esti- 
mated his  own  place  in  the  merchant's  esteem. 
The  place  he  could  now  see  he  was  losing,  or  had 
lost. 

There  must  have  been  some  special  reason,  never- 
theless, why  the  young  man  turned  so  white,  and 
walked  suddenly  away  with  so  quick  and  so  uncer- 
tain a  step. 

Mr.  Brown  looked  after  him  in  amazement. 

"  He  did  not  answer  me.  What  could  he  have 
said,  if  he  had  tried  to?  He  did  conceal  it  from 
me.  It  was  not  right  or  honorable.  It  was  cow- 
ardly to  the  last  degree.  But  how  he  looked.  Have 
I  said  too  much  ?  Have  I  been  unjust  to  him  ?  Am 
I  sure,  now,  that  Carrie  told  me  all?  He  came  to 
tell  me.  He  did  not  know  that  she  had  done  so. 
Look  here,  now,  maybe  there's  something  about 
this  matter  that  I  do  not  understand.  It  is  never 
safe  for  a  man  to  lose  his  temper.  I  never  saw  such 
a  face  on  a  human  being.  It  was  mean  of  me  to 
speak  in  that  manner  of  his  past  mistakes.  What 
do  I  know  about  them?'* 

Mr.  Daniel  Brown  was  a  just  man,  and  an  upright, 


FA  UL  TS !  FALSE  !  39 1 

with  a  righteous  scorn  of  clandestine  ways,  breaches 
of  trust,  all  shapes  and  forms  of  dishonor,  but  his 
very  love  of  justice  was  now  beginning  to  accuse 
him  concerning  the  words  he  had  spoken  in  his 
anger. 

And  Fred  Heron,  striding  back  through  the  camp, 
had  passed  three  ladies,  without  knowing  it,  and 
they  had  all  three  looked  in  his  face  and  read  as 
much  of  it  as  they  each  knew  how  to  read. 

Carrie  covered  her  own  with  her  hands,  exclaiming : 

"  O  Mabel !  O  Mrs.  Boyce !  He  has  been  talk- 
ing about  it  to  Mr.  Brown,  and  they  have  quarrelled. 
And  yet,  Uncle  Daniel  forgave  me,  last  night,  when 
I  told  him.  He  said  he  did." 

"Told  him  what,  Carrie?"  they  both  exclaimed, 
in  a  breath. 

"  O  come  into  the  tent.  I  must  tell  you,  too. 
It  is  dreadful !" 

And  they  followed  her,  and  she  told  them,  and 
Mrs.  Boyce  forgot,  while  Carrie  was  speaking,  to  so 
much  as  glance  at  Mabel,  to  see  what  effect  the 
story  had  on  her. 

"Just  before  you  left  the  city?  Married  him? 
And  neither  he  nor  you  said  a  word  about  it  to  Mr. 
Brown?  I  do  not  wonder  he  is  angry.  If  I  were 
he,  I'd  never  speak  to  Fred  Heron  again." 

"  Fred  ?  Why  is  he  angry  with  Fred  ?"  exclaimed 
Carrie.  "  When  he  promised  me  he  would  forgive 
Augustus  himself?" 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  Augustus  ?  What  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?"  almost 
gasped  Mabel. 

"  Do  with  it?  Why,  he  is  my  husband.  I  mar- 
ried him — not  Fred.  What  has  Fred  to  do  with  it  ? 

"  Married  Augustus  ?"  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  springing 
to  her  feet  from  the  camp-stool  she  had  been  sit- 
ting on. 

"  Why,  you've  said  nothing  but  *  Mr.  Heron*  and 
'we/  all  along.  How  should  we  know  it  was  Au- 
gustus? Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  I'm  glad  it  was 
not  Fred.  I  should  have  been  dreadfully  disap- 
pointed." 

Carrie's  color  was  rising  now,  as  it  ought  to  have 
done,  for  the  widow's  last  words  were  clearly  not 
intended  for  a  compliment  to  Gus. 

"  Fred  knew  nothing  about  it  till  we  got  here.  I 
told  him  because  the  secret  tormented  me.  He  is 
my  brother-in-law,  now,  and  I  had  a  right  to  ask  his 
advice.  He  is  not  nearly  so  good  as  Augustus.  He 
does  not  compare  with  him.  But  he  told  me  he 
should  tell  Mr.  Brown.  I  only  got  him  to  wait  a 
few  days,  that's  all." 

She  was  talking  pretty  fast,  and  a  little  angrily, 
but  Mabel  leaned  nearer  and  put  her  arm  around 
her  neck  and  said  : 

"Come,  Carrie,  dear,  do  not  get  so  excited.  .  If 
Uncle  Daniel  has  forgiven  you  and  Augustus,  it'll 
all  be  right.  He  is  too  good  a  man  to  be  unjust  to 
anybody." 


FA  UL  TS  !  FALSE  !  393 

The  widow's  lips  were  moving  as  if  something 
were  on  them  that  her  judgment  condemned  to 
silence,  but  she  speedily  came  to  Mabel's  help,  and 
Carrie  was  pacified  concerning  her  husband. 

They  remained  in  the  tent,  however,  all  three  of 
them,  until  it  was  time  for  them  to  attend  to  the 
coffee  and  the  other  last  preparations  for  breakfast. 

When  they  gathered  at  table  there  was  nobody 
missing  but  Fred  Heron,  and  it  was  odd  that  there 
were  no  inquiries  concerning  the  reasons  for  his 
absence. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  MOST  PROMISING  HOPES   MAY  BE  WITHERED 
BY  A  SUDDEN  BLAST. 

MR.  BROWN  did  not  go  up  for  a  look  at  the 
mine  immediately  after  breakfast. 

Dr.  Milyng  went,  as  usual,  after  eating  a  very 
good  allowance  of  bacon  and  broiled  venison  in  a 
remarkably  short  space  of  time,  but  the  merchant 
lingered  long  over  his  coffee. 

After  that  there  came  a  protracted  private  con- 
ference with  Carrie,  now  Mrs.  Augustus  Heron,  from 
which  her  uncle  turned  away  with  fewer  clouds  upon 
his  brow  than  had  gathered  there  during  his  morn- 
ing meal.  Then  it  was  the  widow's  turn  for  a  long 
talk,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  what  she  gave 
him  good  advice,  for  when  Mabel  met  him  at  the 
door  of  the  tent  his  face  wore  a  good  deal  of  its  ac- 
customed benevolence. 

Mabel  had  a  number  of  things  to  say  about  Carrie 
and  Augustus,  but  she  was  glad   to  find   that  no 
special  pleading  was  any  longer  necessary. 
394 


RESUL  TS  OF  AN  EXPLOSION.  395 

He  thought  she  had  never  looked  sweeter  in  her 
life  than  when  she  thanked  him  for  forgiving  her 
cousin  and  her  husband  their  silly  error. 

"  But,  Uncle  Daniel,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  is  there 
anything  wrong  between  you  and  Mr.  Fred  Heron?" 

"Why  do  you  ask,  dear?" 

"  He  was  not  at  breakfast  with  us,  and  then,  when 
I  saw  him,  this  morning,  he  did  look  so — 

"  Mrs.  Boyce  thinks — " 

He  checked  himself,  he  hardly  knew  why,  and 
Mabel  expressed  no  curiosity  concerning  the  widow's 
thoughts. 

"  You  have  not  quarrelled  with  him  ?  Has  he 
done  anything  which  you  cannot  forgive?" 

He  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  effort  it  cost  her  to 
ask  that  question. 

"Done?  O  Fred  has  not  done  anything  wrong, 
at  all.  I  misunderstood  Carrie,  and  supposed  him 
privy  to  the  whole  affair  and  concealing  it  from  me. 
He  has  behaved  most  honorably,  and  I  — 

"What  have  you  done,  Uncle  Daniel?" 

"  Made  a  fool  of  myself,  my  dear,  as  a  man  is  very 
apt  to  do  when  he  is  angry.  I  insulted  him  out- 
rageously. The  question  is  whether  he  will  forgive 
me.  If  I'd  said  half  as  much  to  Dr.  Milyng,  he'd 
never  forgive  me  to  all  time." 

"  But  Dr.  Milyng  is  not  Mr.  Heron." 

"  No,  and  the  worst  of  it  is  I  hardly  know  how  to 
get  at  it.  I  must  make  haste,  though.  He's  just 


396  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

the  man  to  take  himself  out  of  camp  and  away, 
with  such  a  driving." 

"Away,  Uncle  Daniel?" 

"  Yes,  and  if  he  did  we  would  never  see  him  again, 
I  think.  I  must  be  going,  Mabel,  before  any  mis- 
chief comes  of  it." 

Wise  man !  As  if  enough  of  mischief  had  not 
come  of  it  already.  But  he  strode  away  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  mine. 

Mrs.  Boyce  came  out  of  the  tent,  just  then,  with 
a  very  serious  look  on  her  face. 

"Well,  Mabel,"  she  said,  "is  it  not  too  bad?" 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Boyce,  if  they  really  love  one  another. 
They've  been  wrong  and  foolish,  but  then — 

"Yes,  Mabel,  and  she  and  Augustus  are  well 
enough  suited  to  one  another.  But  poor  Fred- 
how  he  must  feel !  His  own  brother,  too.  It  sounds 
like  some  doleful  old  romance,  I  declare  it  does. 
Poor  Fred." 

Mabel  was  looking  in  the  direction  taken  by  her 
uncle,  and  she  did  but  silently  echo  the  widow,  in 
a  sort  of  dreamy  way,  for  she  only  murmured : 

"  Poor  Fred— Mr.    Heron,  I  mean." 

And  the  young  man  himself,  the  object  of  so 
much  sympathy,  really  deserved  a  good  deal,  for 
his  quarrel  with  Mr.  Brown  had  cost  him  his  break- 
fast, and  one's  appetite  is  apt  to  be  somewhat  keen 
in  the  bracing  air  of  the  mountains. 

He  had  gone  to  the  mine,  instead  of  the  breakfast 


RESUL  TS  OF  AN  EXPLOSION.  397 

table,  and  the  excited  miners  were  not  long  behind 
him.  When  the  doctor  arrived  he  found  them  all 
at  work,  with  an  energy  born  of  something  more 
than  their  five  dollars  a  day  and  rations.  The  ore 
they  were  taking  out,  indeed,  was  quite  enough 
to  stir  a  fever  in  the  blood  of  veteran"  prospectors" 
such  as  they  were.  Never  before  had  they  seen 
anything  approaching  it,  among  all  the  gold-bear- 
ing Sierras,  and  they  were  ready  to  believe,  with  the 
doctor,  that  the  "  heart  of  it  all"  had  been  found, 
at  last. 

That  is,  if  that  vein  held  out. 

The  doctor  could  do  very  little  more  than  stand 
and  look  on,  although  there  would  be  work  for  him 
at  the  mill,  before  long,  and  Fred  had  a  good  op- 
portunity to  tell  him  the  interesting  story  of  his 
brother's  clandestine  marriage. 

At  any  other  time  the  d6ctor  would  have  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  as  fully  as  anybody,  but 
now,  with  that  hole  in  the  ledge  before  him,  and 
the  muffled  sound  of  the  mining  tools  in  his  ears, 
he  heard  as  one  who  heard  not.  only  putting  in  a 
word  of  comment,  here  and  there,  until  Fred  came 
to  the  details  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Brown, 
that  very  morning.  Then  indeed  the  doctor  with- 
drew his  gaze  from  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  and 
listened  with  all  his  ears. 

"Did  he  say  that,  Fred?" 

"  Every  word,  and  more." 


398  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"  And  without  any  just  cause  or  provocation  ? 
It  seems  almost  impossible.  What  did  you  say?" 

u  Nothing.  I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  turned  in 
my  tracks  and  left  him.  I  have  come  to  see  you 
before  leaving  camp,  partly  because  I  owe  you  that 
much,  to  say  the  least,  and  partly  because  I'm  a  trifle 
green  on  the  plains,  and  want  a  few  directions  as  to 
the  trail  I  had  better  follow." 

"Trail?  Leave  camp?  You?"  exclaimed  the 
doctor.  ' '  Well,  now,  I  reckon  not.  Not  quite  so 
bad  as  that.  You  hold  on  till  we've  made  this  blast 
and  I'll  talk  to  you  about  it.  There  they  come." 

"  They"  were  the  gang  of  miners  who  had  been 
at  work  in  the  tunnel,  preparing  for  a  blast  of  more 
than  usual  size  and  of  great  anticipated  effect,  at 
its  inner  terminus. 

The  drilling  and  charging  were  done,  and  nowr  the 
fuses  were  lighted  and  it  was  time  for  everybody 
to  get  out  of  range  of  that  hole  in  the  ledge,  for 
there  was  no  telling  how  far  some  odd  fragment  of 
quartz  might  be  projected: 

A  moment  or  so  passed  in  impatient  waiting,  and 
the  doctor  hardly  seemed  to  breathe.  Then  there 
came  a  dull  and  thunderous  detonation,  a  strong 
puff  of  smoke  and  dust  and  bits  of  ore  from  the 
mouth  of  the  tunnel. 

"Hold  on,  boys,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "the 
whole  charge  may  not  have  gone  off.  There  it 
comes." 


RESUL  TS  OF  AN  EXPLOSION. 

A  second  detonation,  fainter  than  the  first,  and 
Dr.  Milyng  sprang  forward,  followed  by  Fred.  He 
carried  in  his  hand  a  powerful  reflecting  lantern,  and 
it  was  needed,  even  near  the  mouth,  for  the  smoke 
of  the  gunpowder  lingered  in  the  long  and  slightly 
irregular  gallery.  There  were  broken  masses  of 
quartz  lying  here  and  there,  but  there  was  no  need 
to  stumble  over  them,  and  the  doctor  and  his 
young  friend  were  quickly  at  the  end  of  the  tunnel. 

"  See  that,  Fred  ?"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  passed 
his  hand  over  a  surface  of  remarkable  smoothness, 
before  them.  "The  blast  has  peeled  the  fault  as 
clean  as  a  pane  of  glass." 

"  But  the  vein,  where  is  that?" 

"  Where  ?  Why,  down  below,  somewhere.  The 
rock  has  an  incline  of  about  fifteen  degrees,  I 
should  say.  That  points  us  away  to  the  left,  but 
we  can  strike  it,  as  sure  as  shooting,  if  the  fault 
keeps  on  down  as  perfect  as  this.  The  vein-bear- 
ing rock,  the  matrix,  broke  off  and  settled  in  cool- 
ing, that's  all." 

"  But  how  far  down  is  it?     How  can  you  find  it?" 

"Sink  a  shaft,  run  galleries  out  from  it  to  the 
distance  indicated  by  the  cleavage.  Perhaps  further. 
We  haven't  begun  to  mine  yet.  That's  the  sort  of 
thing  that  eats  up  the  money.  The  machinery  for 
it  is  on  the  way.  Everything  we  need." 

"You  are  not  discouraged,  then?" 

"What,  with  a  rock    like    that  before   me,  that 


4oo 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


seems  as  plain  as  print?  If  you'd  worked  in  as 
many  drifts  and  galleries  as  I  have,  you'd  know 
what  it  means  to  strike  a  strange  rock  in  a  place 
like  this.  Cleavage  wrong.  Signs  of  chaos  and 
general  confusion  in  all  that  lies  beyond." 

"  We  would  be  all  at  sea  in  such  a  case?" 

"  Certainly.  Nothing  to  guide  us,  or  to  calculate 
by.  It's  one  of  those  things  it's  hard  to  make  plain 
to  an  outsider.  Even  experienced  miners,  that  are 
used  to  working  in  other  kinds  of  rock,  can't  make 
head  or  tail  of  a  fault  in  this  old  quartz,  sometimes. 
It's  the  only  rock  such  a  vein  as  ours  could  be  in, 
anyhow.  Let's  walk  out  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh 
air." 

Very  coolly  he  talked,  for,  now  the  result  was  ob- 
tained for  the  time  being,  the  enthusiast's  excite- 
ment fell  to  its  every-day  level  very  rapidly.  The 
other  miners,  who  had  followed,  remained  to  ex- 
amine and  discuss  and  their  interest  and  curiosity 
appeared  to  be  as  great  as  ever. 

Just  as  Fred  and  the  doctor  stepped  out  into  the 
sunlight,  they  found  themselves  face  to  face  with 
Mr.  Brown,  and  very  benign  he  was  looking,  as  he 
held  out  his  hand,  but  Dr.  Milyng  did  not  keep  the 
secret  of  the  mine  for  an  instant. 

"We've  found  it,  Mr.  Brown.  We've  uncovered 
the  fault.  It's  there." 

"There?  The  fault?  I  was  just  going  to  speak 
about  it—" 


RESUL  TS  OF  AN  EXPLOSION.  49 1 

"  Well  the  blast  left  it  bare,  and  it's  plain  enough. 
We  must  begin  a  shaft  at  once.  I've  got  all  my 
plans  clear  in  my  head,  and  I  haven't  a  shadow  of 
doubt  as  to  the  result." 

Mr.  Brown's  thoughts  concentrated  themselves  on 
the  mine,  while  the  doctor  was  speaking,  and  Fred 
Heron  was  temporarily  put  aside.  Not  a  word 
had  been  said  to  him,  directly,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  remain,  and  run  the  risk,  as 
he  imagined,  of  a  repetition  before  witnesses  of  the 
unpleasant  affair  of  the  early  morning.  Before, 
therefore,  the  two  older  gentlemen  took  any  note 
of  his  movements,  he  was  striding  rapidly  away,  ak 
ready  too  near  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  to  be  re- 
called. In  a  moment  more  he  had  disappeared. 

"  He  will  not  run  away  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown. 

"Yes,  he  will,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  but  not  with* 
out  seeing  me.  I  wouldn't  stay  in  your  camp  if  I 
were  he.  Not  over  night.  Reckon  he's  gone  to 
get  his  traps  together." 

"  He  must  not  go,  doctor.  You  must  stop  him. 
It  is  all  a  mistake — I  owe  him  an  apology." 

UO  you  do.  Well,  that's  another  sort  of  an 
affair.  I'd  hardly  take  one,  myself,  but  he  may. 
I'll  go  after  him,  in  a  little  while,  if  you'll  explain 
it  to  me.  According  to  his  story,  he's  been  as 
straight  as  a  string." 

"  So  he  has.  But  I  did  not  get  it  right,  at  first, 
and  so  I  lost  my  temper.  He  told  you  all  about  it? 


402  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

About    his   brother's   marriage   with    my   niece?" 

"Yes,  he  told  me  of  that." 

"  Then  let's  finish  our  talk  about  the  mine,  and 
you  go  and  see  if  you  cannot  arrange  the  matter. 
I  feel  very  badly  about  it." 

"That's  right,"  said  the  doctor,  bluntly,  "so  you 
ought.  But  he's  worth  a  wagon-load  of  his 
brother.  There  ain't  many  men  I'd  tie  to  in  prefer- 
ence to  Fred  Heron.  He  isn't  perfect,  but  then!" 

"  I  know.  I  know.  Don't  let's  say  any  more, 
just  now." 

And  in  good  truth  they  had  other  matters  of  im- 
portance, quite  sufficient  to  absorb  them,  and  Mr. 
Brown's  next  business  was  to  enter  the  hole  in  the 
ledge  and  inspect  it  for  himself,  aided  by  the  doctor's 
lucid  and  very  hopeful  exposition  of  the  costly  and 
difficult  engineering  operations  rendered  necessary 
by  the  "fault." 

Meantime,  ignorant  of  any  favorable  change  in 
the  tide  of  his  affairs,  Fred  Heron  became  more 
and  more  keenly  conscious,  as  he  walked  swiftly 
down  the  ravine,  not  only  of  his  wrongs,  but  of  his 
hungry  condition  of  body. 

It  was  a  most  unromantic  but  a  very  positive 
fact  that  he  had  eaten  nothing  since  supper  the 
evening  before,  and  it  was  now  nearly  noon.  He 
made  his  way  into  the  camp  from  the  forest  side, 
through  the  corral.  The  horses  and  mules  were 
being  herded  on  the  prairie,  just  outside,  but  Fred 


RESUL  TSOFAN  EX  PL  0  SI  ON.  403 

managed  to  reach  the  camp  kitchen,  as  he  thought, 
unobserved,  and  at  once  began  a  furious  attack 
upon  a  saddle  of  cold  roast  antelope  which  he  was 
fortunate  enough  to  unearth. 

He  worked  away,  diligently,  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  had  paused  for  a  rest  before  taking  hold 
again,  when  he  was  aware  of  a  light  footstep  behind 
him. 

"  Mr.  Heron." 

"  Miss  Varick." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  not  lost  your  appetite  as 
well  as  your  breakfast." 

There  was  a  manifest  effort  at  friendly  cheerful- 
ness in  the  young  lady's  voice  and  manner.  Too 
plainly  manifest,  altogether,  for  it  was  a  direct  sug- 
gestion that  something  had  gone  wrong,  and  that 
she  knew  it. 

Fred's  hunger  disappeared  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  and  his  heart  bounded  so,  for  a  moment,  that  he 
could  make  no  reply,  while  his  face  took  on  a  set, 
drawn,  pallid  look. 

"Can  he  be  so  angry?"  thought  Mabel.  "Or  is 
Mrs.  Boyce  right?" 

But  she  added,  aloud  : 

"  Carrie  has  told  us  all  about  her  marriage  with 
your  brother.  So  wrong  of  them  to  conceal  it  from 
Uncle  Daniel !  But  he  has  forgiven  both  her  and 
Augustus,  and  she  is  quite  happy  again." 

"  I  hope  she  may  continue  to  be  so,  Miss  Varick. 


404  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

I  love  my  brother  very  much,  and  I  rejoice  heartily 
over  his  good  fortune." 

He  spoke  sincerely,  heartily,  but  there  was  a 
strange  tremor  of  pain  in  his  voice,  which  seemed  to 
go  through  Mabel's  ears,  down,  down,  till  she,  too, 
was  conscious  of  a  tremor. 

"  O  Mr.  Heron,  I  am  truly  sorry  there  should  be 
anything  unkind  between  you  and  Uncle  Daniel. 
But  he  is  such  a  good  and  just  man — 

"  I  know  it,  Miss  Varick,"  said  Fred  calmly,  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet.  "  I  am  not  good,  but  I  can  try  to 
be  just,  even  to  myself.  I  do  not  blame  your 
uncle.  You  may  tell  him  so,  if  you  will  do  me  so 
great  a  favor.  I  should  blame  myself,  however,  if 
I  did  not  now  make  my  escape.  Now  and  forever. 
Please  tell  Dr.  Milyng  to  meet  me  at  the  further 
lookout,  after  dark,  and  bring  my  horse.  He  will 
know  what  else  to  bring.  God  bless  you,  Mabel 
Varick.  If  I  stay  another  minute  I  shall  either  die 
or  say  that  which  I  ought  not.  Believe  me,  I  have 
never  been — I  am  not  now — I  never  shall  be,  so  bad 
as  you  have  thought !" 

Terrible  words,  for  they  soundsd  like  cries  wrung 
from  a  brave  and  strong  man  in  the  last  extreme  of 
a  great  agony,  and,  before  Mabel  Varick  could  find 
breath  to  answer  him,  he  was  gone.  She  saw  him 
dash  into  his  tent  for  his  weapons  and  ammunition, 
and  she  wanted  to  call  him  back,  but  the  name  she 
strove  to  utter  died  faintly  on  her  lips. 


RESUL  TS  OF  AN  EXPLOSION.  405 

Perhaps  she  might  have  called  to  him,  but  there 
had  been  one  brief,  electric,  flashing  moment,  when 
the  young  man's  burning  eyes  had  poured  a  flood 
of  intense  meaning  deep  into  her  own,  and  she  was 
trembling  all  over,  with  the  thrill  of  her  struggle 
against  the  meaning  of  that  look.  Such  pain  came 
with  it ! 

But  had  he  gone?  Would  he  never  come  back? 
— Why  did  she  let  him  go ! 

Ought  she  not  to  have  even  followed  him,  as, 
rifle  in  hand,  he  had  walked  so  swiftly  away  through 
the  forest? 

Follow? — When  she  was  trembling  so  from  head 
to  foot,  and  when  all  her  face  was  crimson  with  the 
answer  which  had  risen  from  some  hiding-place  in 
her  soul  to  meet  that  last  look  of  his? 

He  had  not  seen  it,  but  Mabel  was  only  half-sure 
of  that. 

She  did  not,  could  not  know  how,  at  that  moment, 
the  faults  of  Fred  Heron's  past  life  were  rising  be- 
fore his  agonized  sight  as  a  more  terrible  barrier 
between  him  and  hope  than  the  smooth  face  of 
quartz  at  the  end  of  Dr.  Milyng's  tunnel  was  to  the 
further  search  for  the  Golden  Heart. 

No,  she  could  neither  call  him  back  nor  follow 
him,  but  she  could  hide  herself,  for  awhile,  in  the 
seclusion  of  her  tent. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 
FRED  AND  OLIVER  ENGINEER  A  SURPRISE  PARTY. 

IT  was  a  good  two  hours  after  Fred  Heron's  visit 
to  the  camp  that  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Brown  re- 
turned from  the  mine.     They  came  with  cheerful 
and  pleasant  faces,  although  they  brought  and  an- 
nounced the  news  of  the  fault  in  the  vein. 

Mrs.  Boyce  drew  a  long  breath  when  she  heard 
of  it,  but  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Mr.  Brown,  with 
a  smile  that  was  brimful  of  sympathy  and  encour- 
agement, as  she  said  : 

"And  how  bravely  you  take  it.  Dr.  Milyng,  too. 
I  am  proud  of  you  both." 

It  was  an  excellent  thing  to  say,  and  she  said  it 
from  her  very  heart,  and  Mr.  Brown  felt,  as  he  had 
never  felt  before,  that  there  was  hardly  anything 
more  desirable,  more  helpful,  than  the  support  and 
admiration  of  such  a  woman  as  the  widow.  He 
had  known  her  for  years  and  years,  but  she  had 
never  at  any  time  seemed  to  have  so  much  in  her 
as  she  did  just  then. 

406 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY.  407 

She   heard    Dr.    Milyng   ask,   at   that  moment : 

"  Has  anybody  seen  Fred  Heron?  Has  he  been 
in  the  camp  ?"  and  she  turned  to  reply : 

"  I  saw  him  go  to  his  tent  for  his  rifle,  about 
noon.  Then  he  walked  away  into  the  prairie." 

"  Did  he  get  anything  to  eat  ?  Did  he  leave  any 
word." 

The  doctor's  voice  was  keenly  anxious. 

"Yes,"  said  Mabel  Varick,  "I  think  he  ate  quite 
a  hearty  lunch,  and  he  told  me  to  ask  you  to  meet 
him  at  the  further  lookout,  just  after  dark." 

It  was  odd,  for  a  young  woman  like  Mabel  Varick, 
but  it  did  seem  as  if  it  cost  her  a  great  effort  to  say 
those  few  words.  Not  only  that,  but  she  turned 
away  her  head  as  she  spoke. 

"  He  said  you  would    know  what  else  to  bring 
him,  besides  his  horse." 
She  added  that  as  she  walked  away  towards  her  tent. 

"It's  all  right,  then,  Mr.  Brown,  I  can  fix  him," 
said  the  doctor,  but  the  merchant  was  following  his 
niece. 

"Was  that  all  he  said,  Mabel?"  he  asked,  as  he 
slipped  through  the  canvas  door,  behind  her. 

"  No,  not  all,  Uncle  Daniel." 

"Anything  about  me?" 

"  He  said  he  did  not  blame  you.  He  wanted  you 
to  know  that.  He  is  suffering  a  great  deal,  I  am 
sure.  I  do  not  think  I  ought  to  tell  all  he  said.  He 
may  not  have  meant  to  say  it." 


408 


THE  HEART  OF  IT, 


"  I  think  I  understand  you,  Mabel,  my  dear.  You 
have  a  perfect  right  to  your  own  decision  in  such 
a  matter.  But,  Mabel,  you  need  not  have  sent 
Fred  Heron  away  on  my  account.  I  never  saw  a 
young  man — 

"  O  uncle,  you  do  both  him  and  me  a  terrible 
injustice,"  exclaimed  Mabel,  with  the  tears  begin- 
ning to  start  down  over  her  burning  cheeks.  "  He 
did  not  say  anything  of  the  kind  to  me — nor  did  I 
send  him  away." 

"Talk  of  honor!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  young  man  is  too  honorable  for  his  own 
good.  Tramp  or  no  tramp,  Island  or  no  Island, 
I  hope  he  will  come  back  again." 

"  O  I  am  afraid  he  never  will !" 

"  The  doctor  must  take  care  of  that,  I  think.  I 
shall  go  with  him,  myself,  to  meet  Mr.  Heron.  Now, 
Mabel." 

"What  is  it,  uncle?" 

"  Smooth  your  face  a  bit,  and  let  us  go  out  as 
if  nothing  particular  had  happened.  You  must 
play  the  hypocrite  a  little,  I  think." 

Trust  a  young  lady  for  something  like  perfection 
in  an  art-effort  of  that  kind  where  her  pride  is  con- 
cerned. When  Mabel  came  out  of  the  tent,  not 
the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Boyce  herself  were  able  to  detect 
the  trace  of  a  cause  for  her  sudden  disappear- 
ance. 

Still,  it  was  just  as  well  that  they  all  had  plenty 


A  S URPR1SE  PARTY.  409 

to  talk  about,  and  were  even  eager  to  talk 
about  it. 

And,  all  that  time,  Fred  Heron  was  thinking 
about  his  friends  quite  as  much  as  they  were  think- 
ing about  him.  He  thought  so  much,  so  intensely, 
that  he  hardly  noticed  what  was  going  on  around 
him,  and  failed,  therefore,  to  avail  himself  of  two 
or  three  fair  chances  at  various  game.  Could  he 
have  hit  anything,  with  his  mind  in  such  a  condi- 
tion as  it  was,  that  afternoon  ?  Perhaps,  or  perhaps 
not,  but  he  had  walked  on  till  he  had  hit  a  clump 
of  trees  and  bushes.  A  "  towhead"  of  the  usual 
pattern,  but  there  was  nobody  there  to  tell  Fred 
Heron  of  the  shelter  it  had  given  that  wise  mule, 
Oliver,  during  the  first  hours  of  his  short-lived  and 
anxious  freedom. 

It  offered  shade  from  the  sun,  however,  and  a 
capital  place  to  lie  down  and  think  in,  and  that 
was  just  the  thing  for  what  was  left  of  that  after- 
noon. 

Fred  took  no  note  of  time,  but  he  became  aware 
that  the  sun  was  well  down  towards  the  horizon  at 
the  same  moment  that  the  sound  of  a  horse's  feet 
on  the  sod  near  by  warned  him  of  the  approach  of 
somebody.  He  had  "  served,"  and  a  quick  return 
of  his  old  campaigning  instincts  bade  him  lie  still 
till  he  knew  more  than  the  pad  of  the  hoofs  could 
tell  him. 

"What?     An  Indian?" 


4IO  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

He  crept  closer  in  among  the  bushes,  for  the  red 
horseman  was  all  alone,  and  he  was  plainly  making 
for  that  very  towhead. 

"  He  may  be  an  enemy,  and  he  may  not,  but  I 
think  the  doctor  would  tell  me  to  get  ready  for 
him.  In  fact,  I  hardly  know  if  that  is  all  he  would 
do.  Glad  there  is  only  one  of  him." 

Now,  if  that  towhead  was  a  good  place  for  Fred 
to  lie  and  think,  it  was  also  a  good  cover  for  an 
Apache  warrior  to  wait  in  until  the  arrival  of  dusk 
and  more  Apaches.  He  could  have  no  suspicion 
of  any  other  presence,  and  as  he  rode  in  he  sprang 
from  his  pony,  and  secured  him  to  a  tree,  well  out 
of  sight  of  any  one  passing  on  the  prairie.  Then 
he  would  not  have  been  an  Indian  if  he  had  not 
proceeded,  lance  in  hand,  to  a  close  inspection  of 
his  surroundings. 

"  No  help  for  it,"  thought  Fred,  as  he  sprang  to 
his  feet.  "  He  will  find  me." 

He  .  stepped  forward,  holding  out  his  hand  in 
token  of  amity,  but  that  was  not  the  errand  on 
which  that  Indian  had  come,  and  the  reply  was  a 
thrust  of  the  lance,  so  quick  and  so  savage  that 
only  a  practised  swordsman  could  have  parried  it. 
Fred  did  so,  however,  with  a  forward  spring  and  a 
blow  of  his  fist,  "  straight  from  the  shoulder,"  that 
sent  his  cowardly  assailant  sprawling  on  the  grass. 
He  was  up  with  a  bound,  but  the  carbine  was  ex- 
tended now,  in  place  of  the  open  hand.  A  flash  and 


A  S  URPRISE  PARTY,  411 

a  report,  and  Fred  Heron  was  again  alone  in  the 
towhead. 

No,  there  was  the  mustang,  a  good  one,  with  a 
saddle  and  other  equipments  which  betokened  a 
brave  of  some  rank  for  his  master. 

"  Sorry  to  have  to  kill  anybody,"  said  Fred,  "  but 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  To  think  of  boxing  with 
an  Indian  warrior.  He'd  have  boxed  me,  soon 
enough,  but  for  my  rifle.  Fm  mounted,  now,  at  all 
events.  Yes,  and  there's  one  thing  more.  I  can't 
leave  the  expedition  if  it's  in  any  danger  of  this 
kind.  I  must  warn  the  doctor.  Who  knows  but  I 
can  get  a  chance  to  die  with  some  credit.  They've 
one  enemy  the  less,  already.  Even  such  a  man  as  I 
am  can  shoot  Apaches.  Mr.  Brown  himself  cannot 
deny  that.  I'll  lie  right  here  till  the  sun  is  down. 
That  is,  unless  I  see  some  reason  for  getting  out 
of  it." 

He  lay  there,  therefore,  among  the  sumach  bushes, 
but  now  and  then  he  crept  out  and  crawled  to  the 
top  of  a  neighboring  knoll,  from  which  he  could  see 
more  of  the  plain  beyond  and  what  was  passing 
on  it. 

"  This  is  my  last,"  he  remarked,  as  the  sun  was 
setting  and  he  lifted  his  head  above  the  grass. 
"  I'll  mount  now,  and — hullo,  there  they  are ! 
They've  got  by  me !  One,  two,  three,  a  round 
dozen  of  'em.  What'll  I  do  now?  They  will  be 
between  me  and  the  camp.  I  must  let  them  get 


412  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

well  ahead  and  then  I  must  take  my  chances.  No 
such  squad  as  that  will  venture  an  attack." 

No,  indeed,  but  there  were  other  just  such  squads 
on  the  plains  beyond,  whom  he  could  not  see,  and  a 
much  larger  one  was  even  then  creeping  slowly  up 
at  the  edge  of  the  forest,  under  cover  of  the  trees. 
They  were  none  of  them  in  a  hurry,  for  their  scouts 
had  reported  all  things  in  good  and  promising  condi- 
tion for  a  most  complete  and  overwhelming  surprise. 

Waiting  was  hard  discipline,  under  such  circum- 
stances, but  the  night  falls  quickly  on  the  plains, 
after  the  sun  is  down,  and  the  trial  was  not  so  pro- 
longed as  it  was  severe. 

"  They  shall  not  be  surprised  if  I  can  help  it,"  said 
Fred,  hoarsely,  as  he  sprang  to  the  saddle  and  urged 
his  prize  to  a  swift  gallop  in  the  direction  of  the 
camp.  "  I  think,  now,  I  ought  to  have  ridden  in  at 
once.  And  so  I  would,  but  for  one  thing." 

There  was  a  sting  in  the  fact  that  he  had  not 
done  so,  nevertheless,  and  it  made  him  somewhat 
reckless  in  his  movements,  which  was  just  as  well 
for  all  concerned. 

He  did  not  draw  rein  until  he  not  only  saw  before 
him  the  dim  twinkle  of  a  campfire,  through  the 
trees,  but  within  a  short  distance  of  him,  right  ahead, 
a  score  or  so  of  dark  forms  on  horseback. 

"  I  must  break  through  them  at  all  hazards,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "They  won't  be  looking  for  an 
attack  in  the  rear.  I  may  succeed,  and  anyhow  I'll 


A  S URPRISE  PARTY.  413 

make  noise  enough  to  alarm  the  camp.  HulloT 
what's  that?  I  never  heard  awarwhoop  in  my  life, 
but  that  sounds  more  like  ten  mules  braying  at  once. 
What  a  horrible  noise." 

It  was  followed  by  a  sudden  commotion  in  the 
line  of  dark  horsemen,  and  Fred  saw  that  his  time 
to  strike  had  come. 

Not  around  them,  to  meet  other  and  unseen 
enemies,  but  right  through  the  middle  of  the  group 
as  they  clustered,  for  some  reason,  more  closely 
together,  and  plying  his  revolver  right  and  left  as 
he  did  so.  A  splendid  charge,  carrying  with  it  the 
security  which  so  often  rewards  utter  audacity,  for 
the  fleet  mustang  bore  him  safely  on,  while  more 
than  one  red  warrior  pitched  sickly  from  his  pony 
into  the  grass. 

The  shout  Fred  himself  gave  was  nothing  at  all 
to  the  savage  yells  which  followed  him,  but  he  had 
broken  up  that  surprise  party. 

That  had  been  a  busier  day  in  the  mining  camp 
than  Fred  Heron  was  at  all  aware  of.  Before  his 
adventure  with  the  Apache  in  the  towhead,  Dr. 
Milyng  had  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  reducing 
mill  with  something  more  than  a  report  of  the  day's 
work.  He  beckoned  Mr.  Brown  one  side  and  said 
to  him : 

"  I  reckon  we  won't  have  the  ladies  camp  down 
here,  to-night." 

-Not  here!     Why?" 


4 1 4  THE  HEAR  T  OF  IT. 

"  Well,  Broadus,  the  scout,  tells  me  he  isn't  sure 
but  he  saw  Indians,  this  afternoon.  I  don't  mean 
there's  any  danger,  but  there's  no  use  in  taking 
risks." 

"Of  course  there  is  not." 

"  I  had  all  the  heavy  wagons  hauled  up  beyond 
the  mine,  when  we  came,  with  just  that  notion.  Now, 
it  won't  take  half  an  hour,  after  supper,  to  move  up 
the  camp  fixings.  I'll  have  the  horses  and  mules 
drove  up,  when  they  come  in.  The  tents  can  come 
down  now,  and  be  all  ready.  Only,  we  needn't  alarm 
the  ladies." 

"  They'll  miss  the  shade  of  the  trees.  But  then 
their  picnic  is  about  over,  now  we've  reached  the 
fault." 

"Yes,  there's  no  telling  how  long  it'll  take  to  sink 
the  shaft." 

And  so,  while  Fred  Heron  had  been  brooding 
over  his  troubles,  in  the  towhead,  things  at  the 
camp  had  undergone  a  change.  'There  had  been 
room  for  criticism,  indeed,  of  Dr.  Milyng's  prudence 
in  ever  pitching  it  in  so  exposed  a  position.  But  it 
had  been  so  exceedingly  pleasant,  with  ladies  to 
care  for,  and  the  citadel  above  the  ravine  had  been 
so  near  a  refuge. 

The  latter  would  hardly  have  been  sought  in  time, 
however,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  keen  eyes  of 
Broadus  the  scout  and  the  prompt  action  of  the 
doctor.  As  it  was,  although  little  now  remained 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY.  4!  5 

besides  the  trees  and  the  dying  camp-fire,  and  the 
men  were  for  the  greater  part  busy  getting  things 
to  rights  in  the  new  location,  there  were  reasons 
why  the  rest  of  the  party  lingered  on  the  deserted 
spot  as  if  loth  to  leave  it. 

There  could  be  no  secret  made  of  the  expected 
conference  between  the  doctor  and  Fred  Heron,  and 
the  general  interest  in  the  result  was  by  no  means 
diminishing  as  the  hours  went  by. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  doctor,"  Mr.  Brown  had  said. 
"  I  must  be  the  bearer  of  my  own  apology." 

"  So  much  the  better.  There's  plenty  of  wild 
blood  in  Fred,  but  I  reckon  we  can  make  him  come 
down." 

Mabel  Varick  had  given  her  uncle  a  very  grateful 
look,  but  the  one  thought  which  insisted  on  return- 
ing to  her,  was: 

"  Could  I  not  have  kept  him  ?" 

It  was  a  thought  with  a  sting  in  it,  now,  for  she 
had  heard  Mrs.  Boyce  say  to  Mr.  Brown : 

"O  dear  me!  If  there  is  really  any  danger  com- 
ing,  Mr.  Heron  must  have  walked  right  into  it." 

And  the  merchant's  face  had  worn  a  graver  and 
more  anxious  look  from  that  very  moment. 

"  It'll  be  a  lesson  to  me  as  long  as  I  live,"  he  said 
to  Mrs.  Boyce,  but  Mabel  had  not  a  soul  to  whom 
she  could  say  anything,  and  it  was  but  a  doubtful 
comfort  to  have  Carrie  put  her  arms  around  her  and 
murmur: 


41 6  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

"O  Mabel,  dear,  I'm  so  glad  it  isn't  Augustus! 
What  should  I  do  if  he  were  out  there  alone!" 

But  the  time  passed,  and,  as  the  sun  went  down 
and  the  shadows  faded  into  the  one  great  shadow 
of  the  coming  darkness,  Dr.  Milyng  and  the  mer- 
chant, rifle  in  hand,  but  leading  no  horse  for  Fred, 
strolled  thoughtfully  out  towards  the  spot  where  it 
had  been  customary,  ever  since  their  arrival,  to 
station  a  night  sentinel,  a  "lookout."  It  was  a 
lonely  sort  of  place,  but  there,  chatting  and  peering 
restlessly  out  upon  the  prairie,  they  waited  the  re- 
turn of  the  wanderer. 

Very  naturally,  their  talk  turned,  upon  Indian 
tactics  and  doings,  and  the  doctor  had  full  store  of 
subjects  for  such  talk  as  that.  He  told,  among 
other  things,  how,  just  a  little  while  after  he  dis- 
covered that  mine,  he  had  gone  out  for  game,  further 
than  usual,  and  had  descried  what  seemed  a  small 
party  of  white  men,  in  the  distance.  And  how, 
almost  at  the  same  time,  a  band  of  Apaches  made 
their  appearance.  He  could  only  guess  what  be- 
came of  the  strangers,  but  he  himself  had  ridden 
for  his  life,  back  towards  the  mine.  Ridden  so  long 
and  so  hard  that  he  had  used  up  his  mule. 

"  But  what  if  they  had  followed  you  to  the  mine?" 

"  I'd  have  given  'em  a  good  time  in  that  narrow 
part  of  the  ravine  and  then  I'd  have  taken  to  the 
rocks.  No  Indian  ever  followed  me  far  over  the 
mountains,  on  foot.  They  won't  go  any  great  dis- 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY.  ^ 

tance  without  a  horse,  and  they're  no  kind  of  climbers. 
But  don't  I  wish  I  had  that  mule,  Oliver,  now? 
Why,  I  used  to  turn  him  loose,  at  night,  and  in  the 
morning  I'd  give  a  finger-whistle,  and  he'd  hear  it, 
ever  so  far,  and  he'd  come  in,  a-kiting.  So." 

And  the  doctor  suited  the  action  to  the  word, 
putting  his  fingers  to  his  mouth  and  giving  a  whistle 
so  shrill  and  piercing  that  almost  any  listener  would 
have  wanted  to  know  the  meaning  of  it.  Even  a 
mule. 

And  the  whistle  was  answered ! 

"  I  declare,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "  that's  Oliver. 
No  other  mule  on  earth  can  pitch  a  bray  like  that. 
Here  he  comes  !  See  him  ?" 

It  was  most  extraordinary.  And,  before  Mr. 
Brown  could  find  words  to  express  his  astonishment, 
a  very  large  and  long-eared  quadruped  came  trot- 
ting swiftly  -in,  whimpering  as  he  came,  and  Dr. 
Milyng  actually  dropped  his  rifle  and  threw  his  arms 
around  the  neck  of  that  mule. 

He  snatched  up  his  weapon  quickly  enough, 
however,  for  his  next  words  were : 

"  Saddled  and  bridled  ?  The  red-skins  are  here, 
Mr.  Brown.  Hark,  do  you  hear  that?  What  can 
all  that  mean  ?" 

Rapid  pistol  shots,  a  shout,  fierce  whoops  and 
yells,  and  then  a  single  horseman  dashing  in  upon 
them  with : 

"  Doctor  !     Dr.  Milyng  !    Apaches  ! 


4 1 8  THE  HEAR T  OF  IT. 

"Fred,  my  boy,  is  that  you?  Did  you  pepper 
any  of  'em  ?" 

"Two  or  three,  besides  the  one  I  got  my  horse 
of.  Ah  !  Mr.  Brown !  No  time  to  talk  now,  sir. 
It's  life  and  death.  It's  more  than  that.  Where 
are  the  ladies?" 

All  three  of  them  moved  rapidly  onward,  as  the 
breathless  sentences  sprang  from  Fred's  lips,  but  the 
doctor  was  as  cool  as  Oliver  himself.  He  briefly 
stated  what  had  already  been  done  for  safety. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  we  must  lose  no  time.  They're 
checked  for  a  moment.  We'll  take  the  ladies — no, 
Mr.  Brown,  you  and  Fred  take  the  ladies  to  the 
ravine  undercover  of  the  trees.  There's  two  of  the 
scouts  handy  to  help  you.  I'll  keep  along  outside 
and  see  what's  going  on." 

"That'll  do,"  began  Mr.  Brown,  hastily  striding 
forward,  but  Fred  Heron  firmly  responded : 

"No,  doctor,  Mr.  Brown  and  the  scouts  are  enough 
for  that.  I'll  stay  with  you,"  and  he  sprang  from 
his  captured  mustang  as  he  spoke. 

"Good  for  you,  Fred.  I  may  need  help.  They're 
riding  in  closer.  Do  your  best  walking,  Mr.  Brown." 

A  moment  later,  in  response  to  his  hurried,  but 
not  panicky  explanation,  Mrs.  Boyce  exclaimed : 
"And  Fred  has  been  fighting  them  already?  All 
alone?  The  brave  fellow!" 

And  Mabel  Varick  added,  in  a  lower,  more  anxi- 
ous tone: 


A  S  URPR1SE  PARTY.  4 1  g 

"O    Uncle    Daniel,  where    is   he?    Is  he   hurt?" 

"  Not  a  bit.  He's  out  there  with  Dr.  Milyng, 
holding  the  rascals  in  check  while  we  run  for  the 
ravine." 

And  neither  Mabel  nor  Carrie  made  any  further 
remark  just  then,  for  each  one  was  saying  to  her- 
self, "  If  it  had  not  been  for  me." 

And  they  were  both  wrong  about  it,  each  in  her 
own  way. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  SUCCESS  OF  THE  EXPEDITION  AND  THE  FINDING 
OF  THE  HEART. 

THE  Big  Medicine  had  looked  remarkably  well 
on  the  big  medicine  mule,  as  he  rode  forward 
among  his  clansmen,  that  afternoon,  and  all  things 
had  worked  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  so  far  as  he  or 
they  knew,  until,  as  they  halted  in  the  gloaming, 
within  sight  of  the  camp-fire  which  was  so  soon, 
they  thought,  to  light  them  to  all  sorts  of 
plunder  and  murder  and  glory,  that  myste- 
rious whistle  came  shrieking  across  the  grass.  Some 
of  them  had  seen  a  locomotive,  and  wondered  at  its 
power  of  voice,  but  no  branch  of  the  Pacific  Rail- 
way had  ever  wandered  in  among  those  solitudes. 
They  were  sure  of  that- 

The  Big  Medicine  dropped  his  bridle  to  listen, 
but  Oliver's  ears  came  forward  with  a  jerk,  and  all 
his  being  seemed  to  melt  in  sound  as  he  stretched 
his  neck  towards  the  forest  and  the  camp-fire. 

It  was  not  altogether  the  mere  force  of  that  bray 

420 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEAR  T.  42 1 

which  sent  the  Big  Medicine  so  suddenly  out  of  the 
saddle,  for  Oliver  had  other  resources,  but  he  used 
them  remorselessly  on  a  rider  taken  unawares. 

And  all  the  rest  of  the  squad  were  also  taken  un- 
awares, for  Oliver  sprang  away  like  a  quarter-horse, 
and  no  hand  was  put  out  to  stay  him.  Was  he  not 
a  medicine  mule,  and  was  not  his  medicine  master 
in  the  grass?  Their  first  duty  was  to  their  dis- 
mounted conjurer,  but  before  he  could  more  than 
rise  to  explain,  another  surprise  came,  charging 
among  and  through  them,  sending  lead  and  death 
on  either  hand.  One  horseman  attacking  twenty, 
and  escaping  their  hasty  shots  and  thrusts  un- 
harmed. 

"A  great  brave,"  they  said,  but  their  vengeful 
wrath  boiled  high  within  them  as  they  picked  up 
their  fallen. 

There  was  an  empty  saddle  ready,  now,  for  the 
Big  Medicine.  A  "  vacancy"  provided  in  the  nick 
of  time,  as  happens  curiously  often  for  those  who 
are  ready  to  spring  into  the  empty  saddles  of  the 
men  who  fall. 

Squad  after  squad  of  wild  riders  came  dashing 
fiercely  up,  but  the  minutes  they  were  consuming 
in  determining  what  to  do  next  were  of  more  im- 
portance than  they  had  any  idea  of.  More  would 
have  been  lost,  but  for  an  order  from  their  great 
"war-chief,"  now  with  his  men  on  the  edge  of  the 
forest,  to  dash  on  to  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  and 


422  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

cut  off  the  flight  of  the  white  men  he  was  about  to 
drive  out  of  that  camp. 

Good  strategy,  for  the  Indian  leaders  sometimes 
exhibit  remarkable  evidence  of  the  absence  of  poli- 
tical influence  in  the  matter  of  their  appointment  to 
office. 

Wisdom  is  none  the  less  wisdom  because  it  is  a 
trifle  late  in  its  operation,  and  history  is  a  long  suc- 
cession of  lost  guesses  as  to  whether  some  Blucher 
or  Grouchy  will  get  to  the  right  spot  first.  In  every 
case  the  man  that  guesses  wrong  loses  his  bet. 

Forward  dashed  the  redskins,  but  O  how  earn- 
estly Mr.  Brown  and  his  now  thoroughly  frightened 
lady  friends  did  thank  God  for  every  minute  of  that 
brief  delay. 

This  was  a  picnic,  indeed  ! 

And  out  there  on  the  edge  of  the  camp,  the  doc- 
tor and  Fred  Heron  kept  slowly  on,  so  as  to  be  be- 
tween the  hawks  of  the  prairie  and  their  trembling 
prey. 

"  We'll  make  it,"  said  the  doctor.  "  They  don't 
know  we've  quit  the  camp.  You've  done  a  big 
thing  to-night,  Fred.  There — forward!  They're 
flanking  us.  Let  'em  have  it.  One's  down.  Keep 
undercover.  Forward!" 

Well  that  the  distance  was  short,  for  the  merchant 
had  hardly  urged  his  panting  charge  inside  the 
rocky  mouth,  perilous  refuge  as  it  was,  before  the 
great  chorus  of  yells  which  had  been  swelling  be- 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEART.  423 

hind  him  was  suddenly  doubled,  and  he  understood 
two  facts  at  the  same  moment. 

The  rush  of  the  war-chief  and  his  braves  into  the 
camp  had  been  made,  and  that  section  of  the  whoop, 
ing  was  chargeable  to  the  ''disappointment  ac- 
count," say  to  profit  and  loss. 

The  other  and,  alas,  the  nearer,  meant  an  imme- 
diate and  close  pursuit. 

"O  Uncle  Daniel,  where  is  Fred?"  exclaimed 
Mabel  Varick. 

"And  the  doctor?"  said  Mrs.  Boyce. 

"  Hear  the  rifle  shots,  right  down  there?  Here 
they  come!"  shouted  Broadus  the  scout.  "Run, 
ladies,  run  for  your  lives.  Tell  the  other  boys  to 
hurry  down  if  they  want  to  save  our  skelps  and 
their'n  too." 

Run,  it  was,  although  their  trembling  limbs  would 
hardly  have  carried  them,  but  for  the  help  and  en- 
couragement of  Mr.  Brown.  Mrs.  Boyce  looked  at 
the  merchant's  pale  face  a  hundred  times,  in  admi- 
ration of  his  calm  and  steady  courage.  He  had 
never  been  in  a  fight  before,  but  it  was  plain  that 
the  stuff  for  one  was  in  him. 

The  two  scouts,  Broadus  and  the  other,  were 
thoroughbred  plainsmen,  and  they  faced  about,  but 
they  could  hardly  have  told  whether  Fred  and  the 
doctor  or  the  foremost  Apaches  were  upon  them 
first. 

Steady,  now.     Four  dead-shots,   armed  with  re- 


424 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


peating  carbines,  make  an  awful  fence  to  ride  up  to, 
even  at  night,  in  a  rocky  pass  less  than  fifty  feet 
wide  and  narrowing.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  stood 
the  white  men,  retreating  as  they  fired,  and  firing  as 
they  retreated.  Had  that  first  rush  of  Apaches 
been  all,  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  it,  for 
too  many  of  them  were  going  down  and  the  nar- 
rowest part  of  the  pass,  the  mere  "  gate,"  was  close 
at  hand.  But  other  swarms  were  coming.  So  many 
of  them,  so  full  of  yelling  and  whooping  and  mur- 
der and  all  evil ! 

''Are  you  hit,  Fred?" 

"  I  can  stand  it,  doctor.  If  I  go  down,  tell  them 
I  did  my  best  for  them." 

"  Good  for  somebody,"  exclaimed  Broadus. 
"  Hear  them  wheels." 

Who  would  have  expected  war  wisdom  from  a 
Beaver  Street  merchant' 

Nobody,  and  very  correctly,  for  it  was  Mrs.  Boyce 
who  suggested  that  the  big  wagon  standing  near 
the  head  of  the  pass,  should  be  rolled  into  it,  and 
Mr.  Brown  did  but  give  the  order. 

"Under  the  wagon,  doctor.  Under  the  wagon, 
boys.  Creep  through.  We're  ready  for  'em." 

Even  the  Apaches  gave  back,  for  a  moment,  as 
they  heard  the  shouts. 

"Pick  him  up,"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "They 
shan't  get  his  hair  while  I'm  alive." 

But  Broadus  was  just  then  lifting  the  body  of 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  II EA  RT.  425 

his  comrade,  and  straining  all  his  remaining  strength 
to  thrust  him  under  the  wagon,  and  D/.  Milyng 
stood  alone  in  front  of  his  prostrate  friend. 

"The  mine  is  safe,  anyhow,"  he  muttered.  "  Old 
Brown  won't  fail  to  work  it.  Take  that,  will  you. 
How  they  do  crowd  in.  I'm  glad  Old  Brown  and 
the  ladies  ain't  hurt." 

"  So  am  I,"  exclaimed  a  cheery  voice  at  his  side. 
"  Get  him  in,  boys.  We'll  keep  them  back  for  a 
moment,  doctor." 

It  was  the  merchant  himself  who  was  plying  his 
carbine  so  coolly,  amid  that  tempest  of  yells  and 
shots  and  hissing  arrows,  and  beside  him  were  half 
a  dozen  brawny  forms  that  had  followed  him  under 
the  wagon. 

"  Now,  doctor.     Now,  boys." 

Even  in  that  crowded  ravine,  the  savages  had 
been  slow  to  dismount,  for  their  centaur  instincts 
almost  forbade  them  to  fight  on  foot.  Otherwise 
no  man  of  that  brave  squad  could  have  made  the 
retreat  he  did. 

Once  on  the  other  side  of  the  barrier,  frail  as  it 
was,  the  riflemen  were  at  a  most  manifest  advantage, 
which  they  were  increasing  with  every  fragment  of 
rock  and  with  every  box  or  barrel  they  could  add 
to  their  rampart. 

"  The  Indians  don't  live  that  can  force  that  against 
a  dozen  repeaters,"  remarked  the  doctor,  and  a  simi- 
lar conviction  expressed  itself  in  the  fierce  yells  of 


426  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

disappointment    which  arose  from  the  other  side. 

The  rifles  were  at  work,  however,  without  cessa- 
tion, and  it  was  safer  to  ride  back,  down  the  ravine, 
than  to  stay  there  and  make  night  hideous. 

Dr.  Milyng  had  so  sternly  attended  to  his  first 
duty,  of  beating  off  the  Apaches,  that  he  had 
missed  one  or  two  little  incidents. 

The  body  of  Fred  Heron  had  been  closely  followed 
under  the  wagon  by  that  of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown,  but 
hardly  had  the  latter  resumed  an  erect  posture  before 
a  white  hand  was  on  his  shoulder. 

"  O  Mr.  Brown,  it  was  splendid !  You  are  a 
hero  !  But  are  you  hurt  ?" 

"  Not  a  scratch,  Mrs.  Boyce." 

"  I'm  so  thankful  !" 

And  the  widow  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"She  was-  thinking  of  me,  then,  and  not  of  her- 
self," muttered  the  merchant,  with  a  queer  feeling 
in  his  throat,  but  he  said  to  her,  in  a  tone  that  sur- 
prised him  very  much  and  gave  her  no  pain  what- 
ever: 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Boyce,  you  must  not  stay  here, 
among  these  flying  arrows.  Where  are  the  girls? 
They  will  need  you." 

But  "  the  girls"  had  a  care  of  their  own,  just  then. 
Carrie  was  sitting  on  a  bowlder,  a  hundred  yards 
further  on,  and  sobbing. 

"O  I'm  so  sorry.     How  shall  I  ever  tell  Angus- 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEAR  T.  427 

tus.  He  was  so  kind.  So  brave.  So  true.  I  owed 
him  everything." 

But  Mabel  Varick  was  neither  crying  nor  talking. 
She  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  with  the  head  of  a 
prostrate  man  in  her  lap.  The  face,  never  a  very 
handsome  one,  was  pale  now,  with  streaks  of  blood 
and  of  gunpowder  on  it,  here  and  there,  to  make  it 
less  so,  but,  for  all  that,  it  wore  an  expression  of 
placid  manliness  which  was  worth  any  good  woman's 
while  to  look  upon. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  do  something  for  him,"  she  said, 
at  last.  "  His  pulse  is  beating  yet.  He  is  not  dead." 

It  must  have  taken  some  courage  for  her  to  have 
found  that  out,  and,  in  a  minute  or  so  more,  another 
form  dropped  on  its  knees  beside  her. 

"Arrow  through  his  leg.  Mustn't  pull  it  out,  just 
yet.  No,  not  poisoned.  It's  a  hunting  arrow. 
Lance  cut  in  the  side.  Rib  turned  it.  Bled  a  good 
deal  but  missed  the  vitals.  Awful  rap  on  his  head. 
Redskin  threw  his  club.  Wonder  it  didn't  break 
the  skull,  but  it  didn't.  He'll  do,  Miss  Varick,  but 
you  must  give  him  to  me  and  Broadus,  for  awhile." 

"He's  not  killed,  then,  doctor?"  exclaimed  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Brown. 

"  Not  a  bit.  My  word  for  that.  But  he  told  me, 
in  case  he  was  killed,  to  tell  you  all  he  did  his  best 
for  you." 

Something  like  a  big  sob  came  from  the  breast  of 
Mr.  Brown. 


428  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

The  doctor  and  Broadus  were  promptly  lifting 
the  wounded  man,  to  carry  him  to  a  safer  and  softer 
couch  than  that  patch  of  flinty  gravel,  but  Mabel 
Varick  did  not  rise  to  her  feet  at  once.  Mrs.  Boyce 
was  close  behind  the  merchant,  and  Mabel  may  not 
have  cared  to  look  the  widow  too  directly  in  the  eye 
at  that  particular  juncture.  Her  uncle's  hand  was 
reaching  out  to  her,  now,  and  she  seemed  to  cling 
to  it  nervously,  as  he  lifted  her.  Such  a  strong, 
kindly,  comforting  sort  of  hand. 

"The  doctor  says  they  will  not  attack  us  again, 
to-night.  He  thinks  they  have  had  enough  for 
once." 

"Was  anybody  else  hurt?" 

"One  of  the  scouts  is  killed,  and  several  more 
have  arrow  wounds.  The  doctor  himself  is  cut  in 
several  places,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  mind  it.  No 
more  gold  for  me,  if  I've  got  to  give  blood  for  it." 

Time  had  sped  faster  than  they  thought,  and 
they  were  astonished  to  find  how  late  it  was.  The 
running  and  fighting  seemed  to  them  now  to  have 
lasted  but  a  few  minutes.  But  there  was  little 
enough  of  sleeping  done,  except  by  the  hardy  scouts 
and  miners,  during  the  remaining  hours  of  that 
anxious  night. 

Just  as  the  dawning  day  lit  up  the  open  tent 
where  Fred  Heron  was  lying,  his  feverish  rest  was 
broken  by  the  entrance  of  a  soft,  light  step. 

"How  is  he  now,  doctor?" 


THE  FINDING  Of  THE  HEART.  429 

"  Doing  very  well,  Miss  Varick.  All  he  wants  is 
care — 

"  He  must  have  it — " 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  sit  here  a  minute  ?  I 
want  to  take  a  look  at  the  other  fellows." 

"  I  shall  be  so  glad  to." 

But  the  doctor  vanished  as  she  sat  down  near 
the  sufferer's  head,  and  she  was  left  alone. 

Could  Fred  Heron  have  been  aware  of  her 
presence? 

Perhaps,  in  the  vague  and  misty  consciousness 
that  belongs  to  half-awakened  men,  feverish  from 
wounds  and  loss  of  blood.  He  did  not  speak  to 
her,  but  his  tongue  was  busy.  He  murmured,  with 
queer  pauses  between  the  words,  here  and  there: 

"  The  doctor  says  so.  I  can  get  away  in  a  few 
days.  They're  safe,  now.  So  is  the  mine.  She 
can't  say  I  told  her.  No ;  I  kept  my  secret.  That 
was  pretty  well,  for  a  tramp.  A  fellow  from  the 
Island.  A  disgraced  man.  Would  she  feel  de- 
graded if  she  knew  I  had  dared? — "  and  as  he  said 
that  his  head  turned  on  his  hard  camp-pillow,  and 
was  lifted  a  little. 

"Miss  Varick?  You  here?  What  is  that  ?  There 
is  blood  on  your  dress?  You  are  not  hurt?" 

"Hurt?  No.  O  Fred,  it  is  your  own  blood. 
Yours—" 

"Mine?  I  do  not  remember — the  doctor  did 
not  tell  me — " 


THE  HE- ART  OF  IT. 

"O  Fred,  you  will  get  well?  For  my  sake. 
Won't  you,  Fred  ?" 

Could  it  be  a  dream?  A  consequence  of  having 
stopped  that  Apache  war-club  with  his  head? 

Or  was  it  a  reality,  and  the  haughty  and  beauti- 
ful niece  of  Mr.  Daniel  Brown  was  kneeling  beside 
the  wounded  tramp?  The  poor  fellow  who  had 
suffered  so  much  and  fought  so  well? 

He  had  not  told  her  how  much  of  his  suffering 
and  fighting  had  been  done  for  her,  but  in  some 
mysterious  way,  the  knowledge  had  come  to  her. 

And  Fred,  on  his  part,  dimly  understood  what 
must  have  happened  to  transfer  so  much  blood 
from  his  broken  head  to  that  beautiful  white  robe 
there,  that  seemed  to  have  a  glory  shining  round 
it.  He  could  not  lift  a  hand  without  pain,  but 
both  were  raised  and  clasped,  in  spite  of  that,  and 
his  eyes  closed  for  a  moment. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  in  a  faint  whis- 
per. "  I  am  not  worthy  of  it.  Can  I  have  found 
what  Dr.  Milyng  has  missed?" 

"The  heart?"  she  said.  "The  Golden  Heart? 
No,  Fred,  I  think  I  have  found  that." 

"But  the  fault?"  he  murmured,  dreamily. 

"Faults?  Yours  cannot  be  greater  than  mine. 
I  have  never  been  tried  as  you  have  been.  O 
Fred—" 

Just  then  there  came  the  sound  of  another  foot- 
step behind  her,  and  she  turned  her  head. 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEART.  43 1 

"O  Uncle  Daniel,  is  that  you?  He  is  better, 
now.  I  am  sure  he  will  live.  It  was  Uncle  Daniel, 
Fred,  that  helped  Dr.  Milyng  keep  back  the  In- 
dians and  bring  you  in.  He  risked  his  life  for 
you—" 

"  Glad  I  had  a  chance!  Glad  I  had  a  chance !  I 
owed  him  some  kind  of  reparation." 

"  Mr.  Brown,  if  you  only  knew,"  began  poor  Fred, 
but  he  was  interrupted  by  another  voice,  that  of 
Carrie : 

"  I  found  them  for  you.  I  knew  there  was  a  box 
of  them  left,  somewhere  in  the  store-wagon.  Most 
of  them  were  spoiled,  but  these  are  good." 

"Lemons?"   said  Mabel. 

"  He  gave  me  all  he  had,  once.  I'm  so  glad.  I 
know  they'll  do  him  good.  I'd  give  him  anything — 

"I  never  thought  of  lemons,"  said  Mabel,  with  a 
half-jealous  tremor  in  her  voice,  "but  I've  given 
him  all  I  could !" 

"Have  you?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown,  excitedly. 
"Have  you,  Mabel?" 

"  O  Uncle  Daniel,  I  don't  care  if  Carrie  is  here  ! 
He  is  my  Fred,  now,  Uncle  Daniel!  Mine!  No- 
body else  has  any  right— 

"Glad  of  it,  my  dear.  From  the  bottom  of  my 
heart.  But  what's  that  ?  Music?" 

Only  the  sweetness  of  a  cavalry  bugle,  borne  up 
from  the  ravine  by  the  glad-winged  breeze  of  the 
prairie. 


432  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

'*  Hurrah,  girls!  Hurrah,  Fred,  my  boy!  No 
more  Apaches.  That's  from  some  of  Crump's  men." 

He  and  Carrie  sprang  away,  and  it  was  Mabel 
Varick's  hand,  after  all,  that  pressed  the  cooling 
drops  of  juice  upon  the  feverish  lips  of  the  wounded 
man.  Who  shall  say  what  else  was  dropped  upon 
them,  then  and  there,  with  more  of  help  and  life — 
for  love  is  help  and  life — than  could  have  come  to 
him  in  any  other  way? 

But  the  bugle  sounded  again,  so  sweetly,  telling 
of  Crump's  men. 

They  had  come,  a  full  company  of  them,  to 
break  up  the  mining-picnic,  and  escort  it  back  to 
safety.  It  brought  word,  moreover,  that,  in  view 
of  the  threatening  attitude  of  the  red  men,  all  min- 
ing operations  in  that  region  must  be  suspended 
until  more  quiet  times. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  gruff  general  to  Mr.  Brown, 
wiien  he  met  him,  some  few  weeks  later,  "  the  army 
is  so  enormously  large  that  it  interferes  too  much 
with  the  liberties  of  our  red-skinned  fellow-citizens, 
and  so  Congress  cuts  it  down.  Otherwise  I  could 
protect  you.  As  it  is,  I  thought  I'd  send  and  save 
your  scalp  while  I  could.  One  of  these  days,  per- 
haps, you  can  try  it  on  again." 

The  machinery  and  the  rest  of  the  mining  outfit 
had  been  detained,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  the 
cavalry  had  made  forced  marches. 

It  was  some  days  after  their  arrival,  however,  be- 


7Y/A  FINDING  OF  THE  HEART.  433 

fore  the  wounded  men  could  safely  be  moved,  and 
Dr.  Milyng  employed  every  hour  he  could  in  grind- 
ing and  smelting. 

It  was  a  terrible  thing  to  leave  all  that  ore  lying 
there  in  the  sun,  and  that  hole  in  the  ledge  leading 
to  the  very  spot  from  which  a  shaft  could  be  sunk 
to  the  treasury  of  the  world.  Still,  there  was  no 
doubt  but  what  the  company  would  get  a  perfect 
title  to  that  mine,  however  long  the  Apaches  might 
keep  them  from  working  it.  There  would  be  no 
"jumping."  Trust  the  red  men  for  that,  especially 
as  the  loss  of  his  mule  had  prevented  the  Big 
Medicine  from  any  other  loss,  or  even  exposure, 
during  the  careless  shooting  which  had  taken  place 
already. 

Fred  Heron's  hurts  healed  more  rapidly  than 
those  of  the  other  men,  and  he  was  soon  able  to 
discuss  almost  any  subject  with  Mr.  Brown.  He 
had  no  further  reason  to  complain  of  anything  said 
to  him  by  the  merchant,  but  he  was  justly  aston- 
ished by  the  enthusiasm  of  Mrs.  Boyce's  congratu- 
lations. It  was  as  if  she  had  set  her  heart  on  his 
winning  Mabel  Varick,  and  had  now  little  left  to 
ask  for. 

Dr.  Milyng  had  to  be  sought  for  at  the  reducing 
mill,  by  those  who  would  commune  with  him,  but 
he  knew  what  was  going  on,  nevertheless. 

u  Doctor,"  said  Fred  to  him,  one  day,  "life  has 
a  centre,  whether  the  mining  region  has  one  or  not. 


434 


THE  HEART  OF  IT. 


I've  struck  a  fresh  vein,  leading  straight  to  it,  with- 
out a  fault  in  the  way." 

The  doctor  took  off  his  sombrero  with  a  reverent 
look,  as  if  he  were  saluting  something. 

"  Don't  say  any  more,  my  boy.  I  believe  that.  I 
rode  one  mule,  from  the  Dalles  of  the  Columbia, 
clean  down  through  the  Sierras,  hunting  for  the 
Golden  Heart,  and  you've  found  a  better  mine 
without  half  the  trouble." 

"Half  the  trouble?"  echoed  Fred.  "I  think  I 
know  something  about  trouble.  Is  that  Oliver, 
yonder?" 

"The  very  mule  that  carried  me." 

"Well,  the  mules  I  used  to  ride  didn't  have  so 
much  sense  as  he  has.  A  good  deal  of  the  time 
they  turned  about  and  rode  me." 

"Well,"  drawled  the  doctor,  "see  that  you  don't 
let  your  ears  grow  again,  that's  all." 

The  Apaches  came  not  again,  being  doubtless 
aware  of  the  arrival  of  the  men  in  blue,  but  a  day 
dawned,  at  last,  on  a  deserted  mine  and  a  wagon 
train  in  motion.  The  doctor  and  Mr.  Brown  and 
their  friends  lingered  till  the  last. 

"  I'm  so  glad  about  Fred  and  Mabel,"  said  Mrs. 
Boyce  to  the  merchant,  as  they  rode  through  the 
ravine,  side-by-side.  "  You  will  have  them  live  with 
you,  will  you  not?" 

"If  they  wish,  perhaps  I  will.  But  her  property 
is  ample,  and  he  is  very  energetic  and  independent. 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEART.  43 5 

I  think  they  will  prefer  to  set  up  for  them- 
selves." 

"And  leave  you  all  alone?" 

Her  face  was  turned  half  from  him  as  she  said 
that,  which  was  unlike  Mrs.  Boyce. 

" Alone,  Mrs.  Boyce?  Would  you  do  that? 
Would  you,  now — could  you  leave  me  all  alone? 
I  had  almost  hoped  I  could  persuade  you,  if  Mabel 
went  away,  and  I  had  nobody  to  take  care  of  me — 
I'm  an  old  sort  of  a  fellow,  Mrs.  Boyce — 

"  Mr.  Brown  !  I  fear  I  do  not  understand  you. 
I  wish — I'm  afraid — I  know  more  than  I  did  once. 
Only  a  very  good  woman,  a  great  deal  better  than 
I  am,  is  fit,  is  worthy,  has  any  business  whatever — 
my  dear  friend,  you  must  not  say  any  more  to  me, 
just  now — " 

"  I  do  not  want  to  say  any  more,  Mrs.  Boyce. 
I've  all  the  answer  I  need.  Mabel,  dear,  please  ride 
this  way?" 

And  Mabel  came. 

"  You  may  tell  Fred  and  Carrie  and  the  doctor, 
too,  if  you  like,  that  there  will  be  more  than  one 
wedding  when  we  get  home.  Is  it  not  so,  Mrs. 
Boyce?" 

"O  Mr.  Brown!  Mabel,  dear,  I  am  so  happy. 
Lean  over  here  and  kiss  me." 

"That's  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Brown. 

The  only  gloomy  man  of  that  returning  picnic 
party  was  Dr.  Milyng.  He  insisted  on  riding  Oliver, 


436  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

and  on  having  that  worthy  animal  shipped  east- 
ward as  far  as  St.  Louis.  There  he,  the  doctor, 
parted  from  his  other  friends,  and  when  Mr.  Brown 
renewed,  for  the  hundredth  time,  his  assurances 
that  work  on  the  mine  should  be  resumed  as  soon 
as  it  could  be  without  risk  to  human  life,  he  re- 
sponded : 

"  I  don't  think  anything  could  kill  me,,  with  that 
to  wait  for.  I'm  right  down  glad  you're  going  back 
so  happy,  considering  how  much  the  trip  has  cost. 
You  and  Fred  have  struck  good  veins  by  it,  any- 
how. I  shall  rest  awhile,  and  then  I  shall  try  the 
mountains  again." 

"They  cannot  have  two  hearts?"  suggested  Mrs. 
Boyce. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  but  when  one  has  found  a  heart, 
he  wants  to  live  as  near  it  as  he  can." 

"  Poor  doctor,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Boyce,  after  the 
farewells  were  completed.  "  But  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  truth  in  one  thing  he  said." 

On  their  arrival  in  the  great  city  it  was  easy 
enough  for  Mr.  Brown  to  adjust  his  relations  with 
Mr.  Augustus  Heron,  as  the  husband  of  Carrie  and 
as  the  brother  of  Fred,  but  that  was  probably  as 
much  as  Augustus  expected,  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

Mr.  Counsellor  Allyn  had  a  very  complete  and 
business-like  report  to  make.  Mr.  Dill-aye  had  suc- 
cessfully "postponed"  until,  as  a  last  resort,  he  was 


THE  FINDING  OF  THE  HEAR  T.  43  j 

informed  of  his  daughter's  marriage.  Even  his  wile 
advised  him  to  settle  at  once  when  she  heard  that 
news. 

Fred  wrote  to  Bessie  that  the  mining  enterprise 
was  temporarily  a  failure,  but  that  he  was  about  to 
get  married,  and  he  received  in  return  a  most  ad- 
mirable epistle. 

"You  should  have  told  me  something  about  it 
before,"  she  said,  among  other  things,  **  but  I  fear 
it  may  be  too  late,  now.  How  do  I  know  that 
your  choice  has  been  a  wise  one  ?  You  do  not  even 
give  me  her  address.  No  one  can  talk  to  her 
about  you  as  I  can.  No  one  knows  you  as  I  do. 
I  shall  write  to  her  at  the  first  opportunity.  Have 
you  told  her  all?  It  is  only  right  that  she  should 
know.  Otherwise  she  cannot  be  the  help  to  you 
that  she  ought.  If  indeed  you  are  to  be  married, 
and  I  see  no  way  of  preventing  it.  After  the  fail- 
ure of  your  ridiculous  mining  affair,  too.  When 
will  you  learn  to  avoid  speculators?  I  do  hope  you 
will  redeem  yourself.  Imitate  Augustus.  He  writes 
me  that  he  has  married  a  lovely  woman.  An  heiress, 
too,  but  her  parents  are  still  living.  And  you  arc 
to  marry  an  orphan.  But  you  never  would  be 
guided  by  me." 

There  was  a  good  deal  more  of  that  letter,  and 
it  was  all  very  good  and  wise  and  sisterly,  as  Bessie's 
letters  and  conduct  had  always  been.  Fred  did  not 
read  it  to  Mabel.  He  offered  to,  but  she  took  the 


438  THE  HEART  OF  IT. 

paper  from  him  and  then  threw  it  on  the  carpet 
before  she  had  finished  a  page. 

"  Augustus,  indeed  !  What  can  she  be  made  of ! — • 
Well,  I  suppose  Carrie  is  satisfied,  but  Fred — 
Fred—" 

"What  is  it,  dear?" 

"  I  have  found  more  than  she  has,  or  Bessie,  or 
Dr.  Milyng,  either.  None  of  them  know  what  a 
heart  is — a  golden  heart— 

"  But,  Mabel,  the  fault?" 

"  We're  away  beyond  that,  Fred." 

Mr.  Daniel  Brown's  business  friends  understood, 
in  a  vague  and  general  sort  of  way,  that  his  western 
trip  had  been  a  tremendous  success.  So  habitually 
close-mouthed  a  man  was  not  expected  to  say  much 
about  it,  and  he  did  not  offer  any  shares  for  sale. 
He  evidently  intended  to  be  sole  proprietor  of  his 
mine. 

The  approaching  marriages  were  duly  announced, 
although  they  were  to  be  strictly  private.  As  to 
that,  so  perfectly  was  the  privacy  secured  that 
"  society"  never  afterwards  got  it  clearly  through 
its  curious  and  gossipping  head  whether  or  no  the 
marriage  of  Carrie  and  Augustus  took  place  at  the 
same  time  with  the  other  two.  All  three  of  them 
were  "  published"  together. 

THE  END. 


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most  notable  landmarks  of  modern  literature."  *  *  * — Extract  from  Author's 
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age,  in  connection  with  the  social  and  political  influences  which  helped  to  mould  the 
character  and  the  destinies  of  the  people."— Awtow  Daily  Globe. 

u  It  is  full  of  keenest  interest  for  every  person  who  knows  or  wishes  to  learn  anything 
of  French  literature,  or  of  French  literary  history  or  biography.  Scarcely  any  book 
of  recent  origin,  indeed,  is  better  rkted  than  this  to  win  general  favor  with  all  classes  of 
persons."—^.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

THIERS  (Louis  ADOLPHE)  Life  of.  By  FRANCOIS  LE  GOFF, 
Docteur-es-lettres,  Author  of  a  "  History  of  the  Government  of 
National  Defense  in  the  Provinces,"  etc.  Translated,  from  the 
author's  unpublished  manuscript,  by  THEODORE  STANTON,  A.M. 
Octavo,  with  Portrait,  cloth  extra.  (In  Press.) 

This  book  is  written  especially  for  the  American  public  by  M.  Francois  Le  Goff,  of 
Paris,  a  French  publicist  of  the  Conservative-Republican  school,  who  knew  Thiers 
personally  and  who  is  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  history  and  politics  of  France. 
Kesides  the  biographical  narrative,  which  is  enlivened  by  many  fresh  anecdotes,  the 
writer  attempts  to  present  such  a  connected  view  of  French  political  history  for  the 
last  fifty  years,  as  will  throw  light  upon  the  present  crisis  in  France,  so  incomprehen- 
sible to  most  Americans.  The  work  will  also  be  interesting  as  an  able  defense  of  the 
unity  of  Thiers'  political  life,  a  position  rarely  assumed  by  even  the  most  ardent  friends 
of  the  great  statesman.  It  is  illustrated  by  a  fac-simile  of  his  handwriting  and  auto- 
graph, a  view  of  his  home,  etc. 

BRIEF  BIOGRAPHIES.    First  Series.    Contemporary  States- 
men of  Europe.     Edited  by  THOMAS   WENT  WORTH    HIGGINSON. 
They  are  handsomely  printed  in  square  i6mo,  and  attractively  bound  in 
cloth  extra.     Price  per  vol.        .         .          .          .          .          .          .     $i   50 

Vol.    I.     ENGLISH  STATESMEN.     By  T.  W.  HIGGINSON. 
"     II.     ENGLISH  RADICAL  LEADERS.     By  R.  J.  HINTON. 
"  III.     FRENCH  LEADERS.     By  EDWARD  KING. 
"    IV.     GERMAN  POLITICAL  LEADERS.     By  HERBERT  TUTTLE. 
These  volumes  are  planned  to  meet  the  desire  which  exists  for  accurate  and  graphic 
information  in  regard  to  the  leaders  of  political  action  in  other  countries.     They  will 
give  portraitures  of  the  men  and  analysis  of  their  lives  and  work,  that  will  be  vivid  and 
picturesque,  as  well  as  accurate  and  faithful,  and  that  will  combine  the  authority  of 
careful    historic    narration   with    the  interest    attaching    to   anecdote    and    personal 
delineation. 
"  Compact  and  readable    *     *     *     leaves  little  to  be  desired," — N.  V.  Nation. 


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